I laughed and worked a hand free to gently pet his dark, thick strands. His warm lips pressed against my neck, and I suppressed a shiver at the gentle tickle of his beard, full and thick now. “Is that how you turn me down for sex?”
“I’d never turn you down. You’re way too hot for that,” he mumbled. “But tonight I might fall asleep while I’m balls deep—"
I buried my face in his shoulder again with a snort. “Yeah, I got it.” I pushed his heavy arms away and took a step toward the doorway, then paused to beckon for him to follow. “Let’s go to bed. Sleep only.”
It was just as well, I thought, yawning again as I stripped down to my undies and pulled on a clean t-shirt that I pilfered from Andy’s drawer. Toothbrush in hand—I kept a spare at Andy’s all the time now, along with odds and ends like tampons and spare panties and an extra set of clothes—I watched in the bathroom mirror as he kicked his own dusty clothes off and stepped naked into the shower.
I might have been exhausted, but I wasn’t blind, and let my gaze linger on the heavy, defined muscles of his back as he turned to tilt his face up into the spray. God, he was sexy. Big and sexy and strong, with brains and a sense of humor and the patience to not just deal with my type-A weirdness, but to appreciate it and enjoy it as what made me—well, me.
Andy didn’t linger—he never did, not without me in the big stall with him—just efficient swipes of soap and shampoo with a quick rinse. After he stepped out and dried off, he ditched the towel and strode naked into the bedroom, not bothering to pull on a pair of boxers before he yanked back the covers and flopped down to the smooth, cool sheet with a sigh. I followed with my own gusty, satisfied breath when I crawled into his arms a second later and he pulled the blanket over both of us. Warm and welcoming, just like always, safe in the private cave of his bed that felt more like ours these days. I had my side and he had his, but more often than not, we migrated to the center and slept in a warm, comfortable tangle.
Another first for me. Shared beds had always gotten on my nerves in the past, but it was natural and easy when the other person was Andy. It didn’t hurt that he had a king size, but it had never really been about the mattress size. Not with him.
Andy dropped a kiss to my forehead and settled his head back into his pillow. “Are you coming here tomorrow night?”
My body, loose and relaxed in the warm cocoon of blankets and Andy’s long frame, stiffened again, and Andy pulled me closer in response. Tomorrow was my last day before my exam. Last day of studying, last day before the test that would determine my entire future.
“I think I need to be alone,” I said quietly as I looked up into Andy’s dark eyes. “It’s not about you or anything, I think I just want the space.”
“You don’t have to justify needing or wanting a little space,” he said, his hand reaching up to grasp my fingers where they rested against his chest, before raising them to his lips for a kiss. “It’s stressful right now. Whatever you need, that’s what you should do.” He paused. “But I’m around if you change your mind, or if you just want to talk. Anything, even if it’s three in the morning. That’s what boyfriends do.”
He faltered again, and I hid my smile against his warm, hair-roughened skin.
“I’m your boyfriend, right?” he asked tentatively. “Because I’d be really disappointed if you slept naked with all your friends.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “You’re my boyfriend.” The tension melted out of my body as quickly as it had arrived, even as my heart beat a little faster in my chest. “You’re my boyfriend and I’m really glad to be here with you right now.”
His fingers, big and strong and heartbreakingly gentle, tangled in my hair. “I’m really glad to be anywhere with you.”
Without another word, he reached over and switched off the little bedside lamp, bathing us in the cool and peaceful darkness, thick and silent except for the sound of Andy’s slow, even breaths and the gentle hum of cool air as it circulated through the house. I yawned one last time, breathing Andy’s warm, clean scent into my lungs as I let my eyes slide closed.
But even then, with Andy’s reassuring presence and the glow that lit in my chest whenever I was with him, whenever I even thought of him—sleep didn’t come easily.
* * *
On Saturday morning—test day—I woke up before my alarm sounded, jarred out of an uneasy, exhausted sleep by the boom of a rare Seattle thunderstorm. Eyes still half-mast and blurry, I was already patting Andy’s side of the bed to find him before I remembered that I was back at my parents’ house, alone in the bed that had gone largely unused for weeks.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. A good-luck message from Fatima, but nothing else. Disappointment needled at me, but I tried to soothe myself with a little common sense. It was early, after all, and perhaps Andy was sleeping a bit later than usual to make up for all the late nights lately. He would call or text me when he woke up, and I could answer after I finished my test.
Good morning sunshine, I tapped out on my phone, then hit send, my fingers hesitating before I added, About to head to my test. Cross your fingers for me.
I tossed the phone down on the bed next to me and rolled to my feet. My brain felt—cobwebby, I decided. Sticky and a little dusty, with so much information sloshing around inside of it that I wondered how I would manage to dip into that vast pool during my test. I’d studied right through yesterday evening, until my mom plunked a dinner plate down in front of me and told me to call it an evening.
“There’s nothing you can do now that will change what happens tomorrow,” she’d said, brow arched as she nodded at the study materials scattered around the dining room table, which we’d shoved into the living room as renovations continued around the first floor. “You study harder than Patrick and he did great. And frankly, you’re just a little smarter than him.” She’d held up her thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart. “Not much. But enough that we noticed.”
The test registration information urged test-takers to arrive at least thirty minutes before the exam began, and so, forty-five minutes before the scheduled start, I pulled into the parking lot in front of the squat red-brick building, belly rolling despite the sensible breakfast, not too light and not too heavy, that my mother had dutifully dumped into me before I left.
I took another sip of hot, sweet coffee from my extra-large travel mug and pulled my phone out of my purse for one last check. Still nothing from Andy, and I really didn’t want to go in for my test without hearing his voice or soft assurances in his calm, rumbly voice. I tapped on his number and held the phone up to my ear, holding my breath as the call connected.
“Hi, you’ve reached Andy Pallas and Pallas Contracting. I’m unable to take your call right now, but if you leave your—"
My stomach roiled and I ended the call with a quick stab of my finger before I tossed the phone into the front seat and flung my car door open. Just in time—but barely—to twist in my seat and lose my breakfast on the wet pavement. I remained hunched over like that for a long moment, shuddering and sniffling as my rebellious stomach finally calmed down—enough for me to sit back up, at least, and grab a loose napkin to scrub at the snot and tears that streaked my face before I leaned over to look at myself in the rearview mirror.
Pale and tired, but there was nothing else I could do. I breathed in deeply through my nose and grabbed my bag. Alone or with Andy’s support, sick or not, it was time to take the most important test of my life.