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“I was a little preoccupied then,” he told me, crossing to the dresser and pulling out another pair of pajama pants and a blue t-shirt.
He handed them over and I pulled them beneath the covers, then wriggled around carefully until I had everything on. The clothes were soft and warm and smelled like him, fresh air and rain, and I snuggled down deeper into the blankets, exhaustion rolling over me like a wave.
Micah perched again on the edge of the bed and reached over, sweeping a tendril of damp hair off my forehead.
“Devan’s out looking for your letter. He shouldn’t be gone much longer,” he said, then paused. “What is it, anyway?”
I cleared my throat, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.
“It’s…a letter from my parents. It came in the mail today.”
He hesitated, seemingly unsure of what to say, before finally settling on, “Devan told me your parents passed away over the winter?”
I nodded tightly. I didn’t clarify, and he didn’t ask me to.
“Is that why you were out there in the middle of the night?” he asked softly.
I nodded again, and my words came out in a whisper. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
I knew he understood. The rock was sacred. There was no better place to deal with your problems.
“He’ll get it back,” Micah said, his voice as quiet as mine, and though I knew there was no way he could possibly promise me that, his words brought me a sense of relief.
I looked up at him, and he met my gaze squarely. He didn’t have his glasses on, and his hazel eyes were steady as he leaned in toward me, slowly closing the distance, giving me an opportunity to pull away if I wanted to.
I didn’t. My lids fluttered closed as his lips met mine. It was only the second time we’d kissed, but this time was the opposite of that day out on the rock—no overwhelming need, no burning desire. The kiss was sweet, and slow, but the heat was still there, steady and warm, like a candle flame, like a promise.
* * *
I didn’t remember much after that kiss. I must have dozed off, and when I awoke, the lights were off and I was alone. There was a murmur of low voices coming from the common area, and though I couldn’t make out the words, the sound was soothing.
I might have drifted again, waking only slightly when the door opened sometime later, silhouetting a large figure in the light from the hall. I couldn’t see his face, but from the broad shoulders and loose, messy hair, I knew it was Devan. He crossed to the bed on silent feet and laid a cold envelope on the pillow by my cheek. Before he could pull away, I raised a hand and caught his, tugging it closer and planting a kiss on the back of his hand.
“Thank you,” I whispered sleepily. There was a pause, then I felt the light brush of his hand over my hair.
“Go to sleep, brave girl.”
I did.
22
When I awoke again, I had no idea what time it was, but judging by the light streaming in through the window I was guessing late morning or early afternoon. The envelope was still on my pillow, and I snatched it up, clutching it close and running my fingers over the careful script on the front. The ink hadn’t bled—it must not have fallen in the water. The force of my relief was so strong I had to blink back tears.
Despite my ordeal the night before, I felt remarkably normal, and I stretched as I climbed out of bed. My borrowed pants nearly fell off when I stood, and I caught them, rolling the waistband to keep them up before making my way out to the common room.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to find there, and I wasn’t sure of the etiquette that came with spending the night in a borrowed bed after saving someone from drowning, but I hadn’t expected to find all three guys sitting huddled together cross-legged on the floor like they were holding some kind of séance, all speaking together quietly.
I paused for a moment in the shadow of the doorway, taking in my surroundings.
Despite the identical layout, the guys’ suite was remarkably different from the one I shared with Nora, Frank, and Julie. Whereas ours—and the others I’d seen in my dorm—was heavily furnished, both for comfort and apparently to show off the wealth and status of the occupants, the guys had seemingly put no effort whatsoever into making the place much more than livable. The only furniture there seemed to be the standard items that came with the suite—worn couch, a small table, bookshelves against one wall. They weren’t even using the couch, sitting on the floor instead, though Garrett and Micah had their backs propped against it. Not that I could blame them—it was pretty stained and ripped up, thanks, I assumed, to the suite’s former occupants. The only additions to the space I could find were a television and gaming system on the far side of the room.
It made me wonder, though. I knew the guys had money, that much was clear enough from their clothes, watches, and phones. Not to mention the fact that they were here in the first place. No, it was almost like they didn’t feel comfortable settling in here, making it permanent. Like they knew they didn’t belong, or thought they might have to leave at any second.
They also didn’t appear to have another roommate, I observed; it seemed to be only the three of them despite all the other students living four people to a suite. That must mean they had a spare bedroom, and I wondered if they used it for anything or just let it sit empty.
Devan noticed me first where I lingered in the doorway, and the instant he glanced up all three fell silent, turning to stare at me like I was some kind of ghost.
“Um…hi,” I said eloquently.
