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“You want us both to… to…” She rolled her hand in front of her as if encouraging him to finish the sentence she couldn’t complete herself.
“Sleep together, yes.”
“Right.” Her laugh was breathy as she dropped her hand and turned away from him. “It’s a logical solution,” she said, her voice pitched higher.
“If you’re not comfortable—”
She turned back to face him and waved a hand, trying to seem indifferent, but her body seemed wound tighter than a coil. “No, I’m fine. Fine. Really. I’ve just never slept in the same bed as a guy before. Kinda caught me off-guard there.”
“Never?”
“Nope.”
“Well, we could put pillows between us if it makes you feel better.”
Her gaze shifted to the floor, and she shook her head from side to side. “No, it’s not that big of a deal. We’re adults. We can share a bed without being weird about it. We’re friends, right?”
“Right.”
He hated the sliver of disappointment at her words. Of course they were friends. They couldn’t be more than friends without him hurting her in the future, when he couldn’t give her more than a fling.
“Right. So, you don’t have extra clothes, do you?”
“No, but I can always wear this again tomorrow.”
“Gross. No. It’s way too hot, and after driving up here and being in this hot apartment, I’m sure you’re sweaty.” She motioned to the closed door on the wall that divided the space between her bedroom and the living room. “I can wash your stuff for tomorrow.”
“What will I sleep in?”
Her lips twisted, and then her face flushed pink. “Um. Well.” Her face flamed brighter. “You know what? Never mind. I can wash them tomorrow before you go. I can’t do them while you shower, anyway. Yet another thing I need to discuss with maintenance tomorrow. Hot water dies too fast if I run a load while showering.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Huh?”
“Before the stuff about the hot water.”
“It’s nothing. We have a solution.”
“Still wanna know what you were going to say.” He crossed his arms and tilted his head, studying her blush again. Her flustered expression increased his curiosity.
“Wasgonnaaskifyou’reaboxerorbriefguy,” she rambled off so fast he didn’t make it out clearly.
“Do what now?”
She huffed in exasperation. “I was going to ask if you were a boxer or brief guy. Happy?”
“Yes. And to answer you, it depends on the day and if I’m wearing my uniform, jeans, shorts… Sometimes boxers, sometimes boxer briefs, never briefs.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal as he watched her freckles stand out against the growing blush on her pale skin. He tried to keep amusement from his voice and said in a casual tone, “Why did you want to know?”
“Figured if it wasn’t… revealing… you could sleep in it. Like boxers are similar to shorts. Oh my god, just let it go.”
He snorted a laugh. He couldn’t help it. Her shyness felt refreshing and cute, and the way she tried to hide it emphasized the tough kitten act he felt from her before.
“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with—no, yeah, I guess I am laughing at you.” He laughed again. “I’m sorry, but you remind me of a kitten. All adorable but temperamental.”
“Kitten?” She stared at him. “I am nothing like a kitten.”
