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Tristan is still up? He promised he’d sleep after he convinced me to go to bed. I didn’t want to leave him alone on the couch, especially after what just happened, but he swore he was fine. Maybe he was… then.
Groaning, I roll out of bed and shuffle into the hallway. Approaching the bathroom door, I listen for clues about who’s inside.
It’s possible Kim got home later than usual if she closed the bar tonight, but there’s no sound coming from inside. No water running or toilet flushing—none of the noises associated with my roommate’s well-documented nighttime routine.
I knock gently.
“I’ll be out in a sec,” Tristan calls back.
Shit.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Fine.”
I hear water now, but it doesn’t make sense after the long silence before. Everything in me wants to force my way inside, but I have to respect his privacy this time. It was one thing to intrude when I was concerned for his health. His calm response just now took away that license.
He pulls open the door, and I’m greeted by a weak smile.
“Sorry,” he says. “All yours.”
Water lingers on his lashes and bare chest. Red rims circle his eyes, adding to the worn, defeated look on his face.
“Hey.” I grab his arm to stop his retreat. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just had to use the bathroom.”
I glance at the old toilet that’s showing no signs of refilling from a recent flush.
“That thing is broken,” I say, waving at the fixture. “It takes, like, an hour to fill. Stop lying to me.”
“An hour, huh?” he says with a half-smile.
“Slight exaggeration. My point remains.”
He blinks and looks away. “Couldn’t sleep. No big deal. Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. No big deal,” I echo.
His weak smile pierces through me, and I thread my fingers with his. There’s no way I’m letting him return to the cold, dark living room by himself.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I turn off the light and lead him back to my room.
“I’m freezing,” I say.
“Okay?”
I close my door behind us and drag him toward the bed.
“Isabel,” he says in a warning tone. “It’s late. You need to sleep.”
“So do you.”
I drop to the mattress and tug his hand.
“Stay with me,” I say.
He stands rigid beside the bed. I can’t read his eyes in the dark but the stiffness of his stance makes it clear he’s at war with himself.
