Page 58 of Worth Fighting For

“You can have it. It’s new.” He hands it to me.

I stare at it. “But then I’ll have to deal with you having bad breath the whole night. You have it.”

“Well, I don’t want to be spending the rest of the night smelling your unbrushed teeth.”

We narrow our eyes at each other, then I say, “I’ll use my wet clothes as a toothbrush. Just give me some toothpaste, it’ll be fine.”

“Huh. I never would’ve thought of that. That’s pretty smart.”

“Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face,” I joke.

“No, you’re not.” Something in Shang’s voice makes my chest tighten in that way it so often does when he’s around.

The back of my neck prickles and I have to force myself not to look at him as I grab his toothpaste and climb out of the tent. Outside, I find my clothes hanging on a line and pick out my checkered shirt. I go to the wash site, squeeze a bit of toothpaste onto a corner of my shirt, and begin brushing, or rather wiping, my teeth. It’s an awkward process, but my mouth feels significantly cleaner afterward, so I chalk it up as a win. Shang stands next to me, brushing his teeth while eyeing me.

When we’re both done, we walk back toward the tent in silence. Shang takes out a sweater and pants from his bag and hands them to me. “You can wear these.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll just sleep in my day clothes like a man.”

I roll my eyes. I’m too tired to argue, and plus, I don’t like the idea of sleeping in jeans. After the day I’ve had, I deserve a soft sweater and soft sweatpants, damn it. Shang leaves the tent to give me some privacy, and I quickly change into his clothes. As expected, they’re way more comfortable than Mushu’s clothes, but they’re also so big that the sweater hangs almost down to my knees, and I have to roll up the cuffs of the sweatpants to stop myself from tripping over them.

“I’m done,” I call out to Shang.

He climbs back in and pauses, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What?” I say.

Shang clears his throat and looks away abruptly, zipping the tent up behind him. “Nothing. Uh, bedtime?”

“Yeah.” Now that the tent is zipped up, the air feels utterly still, every sound we make painfully clear. Shang’s scent envelops me. He smells so good, a subtle warmth that makes me want to snuggle up to him and disappear.

I climb into the “bed,” which is nothing more than a couple of towels spread out over the tent floor. I make sure to lie down as close to the edge as possible so as to give Shang more room. I’m so acutely aware of his presence, dominating the small space.

“You don’t have to, like, hug the edge,” Shang says.

“I’m trying to be considerate.”

Shang looks like he’s trying to bite back a smile. “Thank you, yes, that’s very considerate.” He lowers himself onto the towel next to me and lies down on his back, curling one arm behind his head and the other across his stomach.

I turn onto my back as well, and we both stare up at the tent top. The silence stretches on between us, but it’s not an entirely uncomfortable one.

“Um—” I say, at the same time as Shang says, “So—”

We both pause.

“You go,” we say at the same time. I laugh. Shang turns his head to face me, and I do the same. In the lamplight, his eyelashes cast long shadows across his cheeks. He’s so achingly close to me.

“So this is weird, huh?” I say.

“Yeah,” Shang chuckles. “Just a few days ago, we were strangers and you were just some finance bro trying to take over my family company and probably strip it for parts.”

“What?” I rise up on one elbow. “I would never—”

“I’m just kidding,” Shang says, grinning.

I narrow my eyes at him and lie back down, still giving him a dirty look.

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