Page 11 of Moonlight and Mischief
Breathing through the rush, I finally say, “It’s late, let’s get your room set up. You’ll probably want some extra blankets. That room gets cold.”
She steps back, a teardrop sliding down her freckled cheek.
“Hey, none of that. This is a fun friend's sleepover, right?” I say.
“Sorry,” she says, batting away her tears and smiling brightly.
“You don’t have to apologize,”
The door to the spare room opens with a creak. A twin bed sits against a window framed in rounded wood trim. Marigold pads across the thick rug and slouches onto the coverlet, slinging her backpack onto the small desk beside her with a thud.
“Is this okay?” I grip the top of the door frame, leaning in without stepping across the threshold.
“It’s great, thank you.” Marigold pulls her feet up and wraps her arms around her knees. She looks so vulnerable, it takes all my self-control to not scoop her up. But that feels like crossing a boundary. Instead, I locate a thermal blanket and drape it over the foot of the bed.
“Okay, well, the bathroom is the middle door and my room is at the end. Come get me if you need anything.”
Her breathing has slowed, her expression softening. She deserves a comfortable space and a roommate who appreciates and respects her. That’s something I can provide.
Tapping the door frame, I wander to my bedroom and lay back on my bed. Eyes closed, I listen to the sounds of her closing the bathroom door, running the faucet, and then a few minutes later, closing her bedroom door.
This woman called meick. But her luminous eyes don’t say ick to me, they’re full of the warmth and affection I’m starving for. But if I’m not careful, I could mess this up. I’ll never forgive myself if I hurt or upset her.
She’s one of the best people I know, the first one I look for at gatherings, and one I linger to talk with. And now she’s in my home. At this rate, I’ll neverget to sleep.
3. Snuggles and Suspicions
MARIGOLD
Sleeping in a real bed for the first time in almost two years is a revelation. I want to moan from how good my muscles feel as I stretch and pull the covers higher under my chin, sinking back into the warmth. Maybe I’ll steal this mattress when I find my own place.
My phone beeps, warning me it’s time to get moving or I’ll be late.
Rolling out of bed, I stumble toward the bathroom, grateful I put away a few toiletries last night.
The bathroom door is closed. I stare for a moment, comprehension slowly creeping into my brain.
The door swings open and my new roommate faces me. A dark towelwraps his waist, and his platinum hair looks ashy as water drips down his neck. His bare chest gleams.
This isn’t anything like watching him spar or strip before shifting from across the training room. He’s so close I can smell his soap and see water droplets like pearls across his shoulders.
My inhale turns jagged and I step back carefully. Not an appropriate time to swoon.
“Good morning,” he says, a cocky grin showing off his dimples.
My mouth opens and no sound comes out. His confidence wavers, his expression flickering. “Went for a run this morning.”
“Sounds fun.” I finally say, failing to keep my eyes from roving. Across his ribs blooms a green and yellow bruise. For a bruise to still be visible overnight is surprising, meaning it’s either very fresh or he was hit hard. “Jasper, what happened?” I motion to my side.
He blinks and looks down, huffing when he realizes what I mean. “It’s nothing. Slate got me pretty good yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you go see my grandma? That looks nasty, she could have helped.”
His clear aqua eyes meet mine. “It’s fine. It’ll be gone by lunch.”
“Please take care of yourself,” I say, holding his gaze. With a wink, he reaches over and lightly tugs on the fluffy braid I put my hair in at night.
“How’d you sleep?”
