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I’m so fucking screwed. A month? I signed up for a month of this torture?
She frowns at me. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head, tearing my eyes away from her chest. “Nothing. Thought I saw someone out there, but it must have been the wind.”
Jen nods, then glances at the two beds. “I’ll take the cot.”
Oh, hell no.
“Uh-uh.” I walk up beside her and cross my arms. “You’re the whole reason we’re doing this competition. You need your sleep. You take the bed.”
Jen arches a brow. “Fallon, you’re huge.”
I can’t help the tugging of my lips. “I get that a lot.”
She rolls her eyes, which makes me want to kiss the sass right out of her, and points to the tiny single bed that looks like it’ll collapse under my weight. “That thing is too small for you. I’ll sleep in it.”
“No.”
Jen huffs. “Fallon.”
“Jen.”
“I’m not letting you sleep on the cot.”
As if she could stop me. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” A smile twitches at my lips. I love when she argues, when those lines appear on her brow and her jaw sets in a hard line. My eyes drop to her chest again, to those small breasts that would fit perfectly in the palm of my hand.
Her cheeks are red. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
“Because I’m right.”
“I didn’t know ‘right’ was a synonym for ‘overbearing.’” Jen moves to the bathroom door and starts unwinding the towel from her hair. She hangs the towel up on a hook without looking at me.
Overbearing, huh.
I lean a shoulder against the bathroom doorframe. “I’m not budging on this.”
“Fallon, be logical.” She grabs a wide-toothed comb and starts untangling her hair, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
When she glances away, my eyes drop the length of her body. Even in sweats, I can’t resist the sight of her. “I am logical. You deserve the bed.”
She frowns. “Deserve? I don’t deserve the bed any more than you do.”
Oh, but she does. She’s a college-educated genius from a good family. I’m lucky I’m not still in prison.
I point to the bed. “You’re sleeping on the bed.”
“No, you’re sleeping on the bed. I’m taking the cot.” She puts the comb down and turns to face me. It takes all my self-control not to stare at those taunting nipples.
I push off the doorframe. “Absolutely not. You need to rest for the competition.” I walk into the main room, heading for the cot.
“Fallon, stop.” She gives me a glare, fists clenched at her sides, then grabs a pillow and shoves it on the end of the tiny, nearly child-sized cot. “Try it. Lie down and see how comfortable you are.”
“Fine.” I plonk myself down on the cot and drape my legs over the end, my feet sticking out in midair from mid-calf down. I rest my head against the pillow and spread my hands. “See? Perfect.”
Sort of. My legs hang off the end, and my feet will probably go numb if I stay like this, but there’s not really enough room to roll onto my side. There’s nowhere comfortable to put my arms, but still. It’s only temporary. Jen should have the bed. Worst case, like I said, I’ll sleep on the floor.
“You’ll give yourself back problems.” She arches a brow. “Take the bed.”
