Page 68 of Battle of the Bookstores

Only problem is, he doesn’t feel like the enemy anymore.

“But—if you go back to your parents’ house, they’re going to think we had a big fight or something,” I say, then bite my lip.What am I doing?

His grin slowly fades as my words hit him. His pupils dilate. “Do you…”

I swallow. Stare at his lips. Let my mind drift back to thefeeling of his body on mine, his weight pressing me against the sand.

“I think you should sleep here,” I say. His eyebrows shoot up, and I blurt, “Justsleep.”

He blinks, and I catch a flash of—what, disappointment?—in his eyes before he nods. “Of course.”

“Of course,” I echo.

My heart knocks against my chest as I lead him into the room.

The door clicks shut behind us.

18

Ryan

Here’s the thingthey don’t tell you about the Only One Bed scenario: there are a lot of details to deal with all at once. What side of the bed do you sleep on? Who gets which pillows? Where do you get undressed? What do you wear to bed?

I brush my teeth first, having grabbed my bag from the car, then Josie goes in, leaving me with all these questions. I usually sleep in boxers, but there’s no way I’m doing that tonight, so I put on the T-shirt I brought for tomorrow. I pick a side of the king-size bed at random and slide in, then start panicking because what isJosiegoing to wear? I imagine her coming out in lingerie, then smack that away becauseduh, of course she won’t. Then I imagine her in something cotton and cozy, which is somehow even more attractive.

She opens the bathroom door a sliver and says, “Um, Ryan?”

“Yep?” I say, stiffening.

“Can you, uh…turn off the light?”

Ah. Maybe it’s better that I won’t know what she’s wearing, what Josie Klein looks like before she falls asleep. I flick off mynightstand lamp and everything goes black. There’s a squeak of hinges as the bathroom door opens fully, followed by a soft thud and a mutteredoofas she runs into something (the dresser?). Finally, the bed sags as she climbs in on the opposite side.

I’m sharing a bed with Josie Klein. This is so weird.

“Is this weird?” she asks.

“No!” I say, too quickly. “I mean, unless it’s weird for you, and then I’m happy to crash on the floor.”

“No, it’s fine,” she says softly.

We both go silent, and I stare up at the dark ceiling. I can’t stop replaying that kiss, how she tasted like sweet champagne and the salty ocean. I bet she tastes like spearmint now. It would be so easy to roll over and kiss her again, to feel the heat of her hands, the urgency of her touch as she explores my skin. I want to hear that soft moan again, feel the way she thrust herself against me.

Fuck, I’m hard just thinking about it. I turn on my side, away from her, even though she can’t see the effect she has on me.

“I’m sorry,” she says, breaking the silence. “I’ve been so mean to you over the past few weeks.”

My chest tightens with guilt. “I’ve been just as mean. Maybe worse.”

“I don’t know about that. I really wanted to beat you. So badly.”

Wanted? Not sure why she’s speaking in the past tense.

“Xander put us in a shitty position,” I say, shifting so I’m on my back. “How about we stop blaming each other or ourselves?”

A soft chuckle. “I’m always happy to blame Xander.”

We’re silent again, and the sheets rustle as she rolls toward me. Something tickles my arm—her hair. My skin breaks into goose bumps, and I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from reaching over and touching the soft strands.

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