Page 45 of One Night Only

“Why did you ask? About them?” I pull the duvet over the pillows and tug it into place. The simple act of making the bed feels like closing the door on us. “You can’t be truly interested in our foolish emo floundering.”

“They are part of your world. I want to understand how it works.”

A laugh slips out of me. “Do we look that strange to you?”

He thinks before he answers. I love that about him. I love that he isn’t just pretending to be interested in my chaotic life. “Not strange. But there’s a level of freedom and ease about sexual matters that my friends and I don’t have. It’s refreshing. As long as they aren’t propositioning you right in front of me.”

I turn away, breathing in fast pants. Suddenly, the air in the suite feels oppressive and thick—heavy with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint spice of Dr. Cross’s cologne that somehow seeped into my skin.

My hand reaches for the French doors, and I slide them open, letting the cool breeze rush in, carrying the scent of fresh rain. The sky is impossibly blue now, the storm gone. Sunlight spills across the room, bright and warm.

I lean against the doorframe, the curtains fluttering as the wind picks up. “I have a virtual meeting with the admissions committee for the nursing school in two hours,” I say, unable to take it anymore. “I have to leave soon to prepare for it.”

I don’t miss the fact that he’s keeping the distance I put between us. “Order in lunch and take it here. I’ll be gone for the rest of the day.”

I shake my head. “Better to do it at Zach’s. I won’t be able to concentrate here. Rahul and I body double for each other on important tasks. It’s why they’re driving me to Seattle too. This next week is super important, and I don’t want to mess anything up. If I stay here...”

“What?” He sighs and when he speaks again, his tone is infinitely gentle. “I want to understand, Annika. Let me.”

“You’ll mock me,” I say, tears pricking my throat like thorns. “I’ve tried to explain it before, and most... neurotypicals don’t get it. The best response I get is that I’m lazy or that I’m not applying myself, or that I don’t want success bad enough.”

He flinches, as if I have dealt him an invisible punch. “You truly think I would mock you?”

A rogue tear falls down my cheek and I wipe at it roughly. “No, maybe not mock me. But this is like asking me to lay the most vulnerable version of me bare. Didn’t you get enough last night?”

He runs his fingers over his temples, his pale gray eyes uncharacteristically hard. “Then I guess you have to make the call if I’m worthy of that or not, Ani.”

He’s right, and that’s his appeal. This hold he has on me isn’t a power trip or currency for him. He simply wants me to acknowledge it and give him all of me.

With a shuddering inhale, I try. “If I stay here any longer, I’ll fall into a hyper fixation spiral. I’m already skating that line into that intoxicating state, riding this emotional high.” The words rush of out me in the silence. “Soon, I’ll prioritize the rush of being with you, of being wanted by you, over nursing school, over my other commitments, even over my own well-being. It’s why I texted Rahul this morning to come get me. Funnily enough, they were already on their way.”

Dr. Cross doesn’t brush it off, doesn’t try to counter my fears with easy assurances. Instead, he studies me—really looks at me—with that quiet intensity of his, like he’s taking in every word, every twitch, every flicker of emotion I can’t quite hide. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, careful. “You’ve clearly worked hard to achieve that kind of self-awareness. You continue to amaze me, sweetheart.”

I choke down on a sob and sway on my feet. My entire being is filled with a quiet joy, a bright light that should shine out of my very pores. This man...he sees me as I am. And it’s an intoxicating feeling.

His fingers flex by his sides, like he wants to reach for me but is stopping himself. “I’m still a selfish man though. And I want to accommodate whatever you need. Stay here for just a couple more days. Rahul can join you during the day. That way, you have your structure, and we’ll have evenings together. If all you want to do is talk or hang out or simply go to bed, I’m okay with that. We can just be friends, if it helps you stay grounded.”

I laugh, but it’s a broken sound. “How many more days though?” Desperation leaks into my tone. I walk toward him, promising myself one more hug. One more kiss. One more simple, searing touch. “How much more will be enough?”

His gaze eats me up as he cups my jaw. “There’s no need to put a limit, sweetheart.”

I rock into his touch, my entire being tuned to it. “I have an interview at a pediatric clinic in two days. Tomorrow afternoon, I get the keys to an apartment I’m house-sitting for the summer.”

“Stay for tonight then.”

Leaning forward, I hide my face in his chest, messing up his shirt with my tears and snot. He smells divine, the planes of his chest already familiar to my fingers.

My heart expands to dangerous proportions as I realize what he’s already become to me—my place of belonging.

But how long before the shine wears off? Before he discovers that I’m not worthy of his regard? Before he looks at me the way my family does? I would die of a broken heart then. So, I have to walk away now, when everything is still good. When he looks at me like he adores me beyond belief.

“Please, don’t make this harder. I’d rather remember how good this is.”

His fingers squeeze around my nape and dig into my scalp as he holds me tightly. My breasts are crushed against his hard chest. I breathe him in like I’m hyperventilating just so I can bury his scent deep in my lungs.

“You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time, Ani.” He presses a warm kiss to my temple. “If you’re scared and you want to run today, I will allow it, sweetheart. But this isn’t over. Not by any means.”

His arrogant confidence brings my head up, even as I revel in it. If only I could borrow his faith, if only I could let myself believe his feelings would last. I dig my teeth into his chin, bloodthirsty and possessive to the last. “What do you mean to do?”

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