Page 69 of I Knew You Were Trouble

Oh gosh, please don’t tell her you’re going to sleep with me.

“I think Candace would appreciate some help in the morning.” He eyes the confetti covered room, pizza plates and empty beer bottles and champagne glasses covering every flat surface. Should I let him know the staff will be here in the morning or will that make me sound like the spoiled rich girl I am?

“Sure… You’ll helpCandaceclean.” She says my name like it’s supposed to mean something, like I’m somehow more important than any other person in his life, which is real silly. It still makes my heart fly around my chest.

Pete chucks a crumpled napkin in her direction, which she dodges. “You gonna be okay to drive?”

“I stayed sober for you, dummy.” She shakes her head. “What a waste.”

“I could use a ride, then,” Josh pipes up from his spot on the floor. “If you don’t mind.”

“Where do you live?”

“Just a mile down the road from Troublemakers.”

“That’s doable.” Maddie steps over Tristan sprawled across the floor. “You got a ride to work tomorrow, Pete?”

Pete looks to me, and I nod. I’ll drive him to Canada if he wants as long as he keeps me safe while I sleep.

We walk them both out, and I eye the snow fall. It sticks to the grass, but the road still looks okay. Wet, but not icy. Maddie doesn’t seem concerned at all as she bounds down the steps and gives us a wave. Nerves bundle in my stomach, like a twisted strand of Christmas lights.

I invited Pete into a bed with me, and I’m not even going to take it back.

After we watch Maddie and Josh take off, Pete helps me shut off lights and lock up. He settles blankets over the snoozing party-goers, and I stifle a grin. He tucked me in on Christmas Eve, too.

My stairs don’t creak at all with our weight as we shuffle to the far bedroom, but I can hear his footfalls as clear as day, shaking that twisted knot of Christmas lights in my stomach with each step.

The room I pick is one of three with king beds. My parents have one, the room I use when we visit here hosts another, and then this one.

It’s by far the smallest of the king rooms, but that doesn’t mean I’m not hyper aware of the contrast between this and the room I spent the night in at his house. His bed was soft and smelled like him—mixed with that apple cinnamon air freshener, of course. This one is barely used. Actually, I don’t remember the last time someone slept in it. The duvet gets washed every week, so it only smells of detergent. A charging station sits on each nightstand, compatible with both kinds of phones. The connected bathroom has a barnyard sliding door my mom is obsessed with, so she puts one in any place she can.

The carpet is plush and white and barely stood on, so it has all its natural fluff. And Pete’s staring at it, standing just outside the door.

“You okay there?”

“Do I need to take my shoes off?” His nose wrinkles at the state of his shoes. I stifle a grin. This is why I hate the color white. It’s a deterrent for fun.

“You don’t wear shoes to bed, do you?” I tease, slipping out of my heels. I drop a good four inches, then I kick them haphazardly to the corner, trying not to worry that they aren’t in the closet or set aside in an organized manner.

He gives me a look, pushing a toe to his heel and shucking his shoes. He hooks two fingers in them and then grabs mine. With a pointed grin, he sets them nicely in the shoe bin just inside the closet.

“It’s scary how well you know me sometimes.” I flop on the edge of the bed. He crosses the room and flops next to me. It’s a king size, but he chooses to leave barely an inch between us. An electric current sparks to life all along my left side.

“So…” he says, “you got anything I can change into? Troublemakers doesn’t make the most comfortable pajamas.”

“Oh!” Duh, of course. He’s probably feeling so grimy, and this clean as heck room doesn’t help. I rush to the closet, smacking the light on and rummaging through. This isn’t the normal season for Mom and Dad to visit, so I know we won’t be stocked up on much. I find a t-shirt that might be a bit snug, but I come up empty on pants.

“You want to try this?” I ask. “I don’t know if I have anything besides jeans though…”

“I’ll use my boxers if you don’t care.”

My eyes drift down automatically, and I hurry and whip them to the ceiling. “Your… friend won’t pop out, will he?”

He lets out his signature laugh, but he’s either trying to be quiet or he’s too tired to use the same volume. “He’ll stay put.”

He gets up and takes the t-shirt from my hands, and I gulp with his chest so close. He’s so much taller than me, especially when I’m sans heels. He probably had a hard time bending over for a kiss.

I take a step back to clear my head. “You can change in here,” I tell him. “I’ve got stuff in another room. I’ll be right back.”

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