Page 71 of Return Policy

“Let’s go to my place, it’s closer.”

“Sure, whatever,” she agrees, not picking up the pace.

“Come on, babe. Speed up. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

“I’m trying.” She groans. “And you know, sometimes you sound like a ninety-year-old woman.”

I spin around, jogging backwards. “Just a little farther. You’ve got this.”

“Seriously, I can’t.” Sophia stops completely, holding her hands against her forehead. “It’s fine. It’ll wash off the sweat.” I walk towards her and bend down. “What are you doing?” she yelps as I throw her over my shoulder.

“Getting out of this damn rain before you get sick.”

“That’s a myth!” she shouts through fits of giggles as I jog towards my building. “People dance in the rain all the time and don’t catch colds!”

“Well, I’m not taking any risks,” I say breathlessly.

“No risk, no fun!”

By the time we walk into my apartment, we’re both sopping wet from head to toe.

“It’s colder than a penguin's balls in here,” Sophia says as an involuntary shiver overtakes her body.

“Told you you’d get cold.” I smirk down at her, and she rolls her eyes.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“You can borrow some clothes, and I have chicken noodle soup if you need it.”

She stands there, scrunching her face at me. “I’ll just take the clothes. Thanks.”

“Fine, no soup for you,” I mutter, retrieving my CBU football T-shirt and matching sweats from my dresser.

“Mind if I use the shower?” she asks as I hand them to her.

“Be my guest. Towels are under the sink.”

She goes into my bathroom, and I refrain from making a joke about saving water since I’m just thankful she agreed to come back to my apartment in the first place.

I use Theo’s shower, pull on a pair of sweats, and head back to my room just as Sophia is stepping out of the bathroom. My clothes swallow her whole, and it’s cute as shit.

She pauses in the doorway, eyes roaming over me from head to toe.

The wind picks up outside, battering rain against the window, and Sophia’s amused eyes rip from mine, looking toward it.

“I checked the radar, and it’s supposed to be pretty bad till morning. You’re welcome to stay here.” She looks at the bed, and I can see the wheels turning in her brain. “If it’ll make you feel better, we can build a pillow wall,” I suggest, unable to stop the teasing grin from spreading across my face.

“That seems unnecessary. I think we can keep our hands to ourselves.”

I’ll do my damndest…

We get into the full-sized bed, our sides touching.

“Here.” I turn on the TV and hand her the remote. “Pick whatever you want.”

“WhateverI want?” she asks, grinning.

“You heard me.”

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