Page 96 of Faking It Right
“Yours,” he decided. “It’s less messy.”
I laughed. “Only because I keep my clothes in my closet instead of on the ‘floordrobe’ like you.” I stole a quick kiss, still marveling that I could do that. “Come on, let’s go to bed. I’ve got clean sheets and everything.”
“Such a gentleman,” he teased, following me down the hallway to my bedroom.
I turned off the bedside lamp after finishing our nightly routine, plunging the room into darkness. With a few awkward adjustments, Ryker settled against my side, his head resting on my shoulder. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect.”
We lay in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound our synchronized breathing. I couldn’t decide what was better: falling asleep with my best friend or knowing I’d wake up with him in the morning. Both felt like gifts I never thought I’d receive.
“Harley?” Ryker’s voice was soft, already heavy with approaching sleep.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad we’re doing this. For real, I mean.”
“You and me both,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Though I should warn you that this means my room is now officially ‘our room.’”
He lifted his head slightly. “Does it now?”
“Absolutely. It’s basic relationship math. Your stuff plus my stuff equals our stuff. Your presence plus my bed equals our bed.” I gestured grandly in the darkness. “Welcome to the first night of our domestic empire.”
“What happens to my room?” he asked, amusement clear in his voice.
“Oh, that becomes the guest room. Or maybe a home gym. Or—and hear me out—we convert it into a shrine dedicated to our past lives.”
“A shrine to our past lives?” Ryker scoffed.
“Absolutely. We’ll section it off by era. One corner for our mythical past lives. Maybe some tasteful horseshoes mounted on the wall.”
“I’m pretty sure unicorns didn’t wear horseshoes.”
“Fine, no horseshoes. But we definitely need a little yak herder display. Some miniature yaks made of felt. Oh! And for your God of War period, we could mount some decorative weapons.”
“You’ve given this way too much thought in the last thirty seconds.”
“I’m an idea man, Ryker. It’s what I do.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “We’ll need to leave space for the alpaca exhibit, of course. That’s nonnegotiable.”
“Of course,” he deadpanned. “Are we calling it the Maylin Museum of Madness?”
“We could make her a special plaque by the door that says, ‘Official Past Life Historian and Accidental Matchmaker.’”
“My mom would want co-credit for the matchmaking.”
“Your mom gets the gift shop. She can sell little commemorative T-shirts that say, ‘My son dated his roommate and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.’”
Ryker’s laughter shook the bed. “Stop, I’m trying to sleep.”
“Sleep? In our brand-new shared bedroom? When we could be planning our past-life shrine business model?” I kissed his forehead. “Fine, we can discuss admission prices tomorrow over breakfast.”
He snorted. “You’re so ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” I replied automatically. “In this life and apparently several others.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, nestling closer. “We should remember to leave room in the shrine for whatever we become next time.”
My heart did a little flip at his casual acceptance of our future together, both in this life and beyond. “Already planning our next incarnation, huh?”
