Page 108 of Only and Forever

Officially exhausted, having said my good nights to everyone, I follow Viggo a few minutes later as he leads me up the stairs, carrying my suitcase ahead of me.

I frown, confused, when I process what’s missing. “Wait. Where’s your suitcase?”

“Downstairs. I’m crashing on the couch.”

I stop, halfway up the stairs. “Absolutely not.”

Viggo backtracks, takes my hand, and tugs me up the steps with him. “Lu, I love sleeping on the sofa.” He clears his throat. “And our room only has one bed.”

“So? We’ll sleep in it.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not making you share a bed with me.”

“You wouldn’t bemakingme; I’m offering, you goofball.”

“Because you’re nice,” he counters, leading me down the hall.

We stop in front of a shut door. “Since when?”

“Tallulah, you’re nice to me. You’re being nice now.”

“Because I...” I swallow nervously. “Because you matter to me, despite your despicable disregard for modern shaving methods. Now, go get your suitcase.”

“No.”

“Fine.” I yank my suitcase from his hands, then start back toward the stairs. “I’ll sleep on the floor in the living room.”

“Tallulah Jane Clarke, I swear to God—” He groans, hustling after me, beating me to the top of the steps. He spins around two steps down and faces me. “Lu, please.”

I peer down at him, my heart pounding. “Tell me you don’twantto sleep in that bed tonight, and I’ll let it go.”

Viggo bites his lip, eyes narrowing.

“Anddon’tyou dare lie to me,” I say icily.

He swallows. “Fine, okay? Go get unpacked. I’ll be up soon with my bag.”

—

I’m a ball of nerves, sitting up in bed, e-reader in hand, not processing a word. The door opens, and I glance up to see Viggo standing with his back to me, hanging his towel on one of the hooks mounted to the wall. Bright yellow athletic shorts and a plain white T-shirt, hair wet from his shower, curled up along his neck. Happiness hums through me at the sight of him.

He turns, shutting the door behind him, and smiles nervously. “Hey.”

I stare at him as my mouth falls open. His beard is... almostgone. Shaved to a tight shadow along his jaw. I can’t even process how beautiful his face is, revealed more fully, the faint hollows in his cheeks, the sharp, lovely line of his jaw. That lush, soft mouth.

“Oh my God,” I whisper.

Viggo sets a hand to his face, clearly self-conscious. “You don’t like it?”

“Like it?” I shake my head. “I... It’s...”

I can’t even find the words. Yes, in a way, I miss the familiarity of what I’ve known, that full, bushy beard. But I’m riveted by the luxury of seeing so much more of him. I’m glad he didn’t shave it clean, like I spent the past two months heckling him to. He still looks like the Viggo I know, but now also a little more like the young man who scared the life out of me seven years ago, kind and curious, sitting beside me in class.

He’s so handsome, it hurts.

“You look incredible,” I finally manage.

Viggo’s smile broadens and brightens. My mouth lifts reflexively, because that’s what happens now, like there’s a glowing, golden string connecting the corner of his mouth to mine. When he smiles, I smile.

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