It’s uncomfortable at first—with him on one side of my queen bed and me on the other, but eventually the weirdness is replaced by sleep. And we do, in fact, sleep.
His phone alarm goes off when my bedroom is still pitched in the slanting amber light of dawn. A high-pitched electronic whine jolts me out of a good dream and it’s a few anxious heartbeats before I remember why I’m so warm in my bed and whose skin is pressed up against mine. With a muffled moan and an unwelcome gust of cold air, Cole slips out of the sheets and stands by the bed. I hear him pull on his jeans and search around my desk for his keys and wallet.
Before he leaves, he hovers over my body for a long moment. He’s not touching me, but I can feel his heat and his breath on my skin even through the fabric of the sheets. I know that I should roll over to let him know that I’m awake. I should wish him good luck or positive vibes for the race or something. Instead, I let him place a quick kiss on my forehead and disappear without any words exchanged. Maybe it’s because I’m infamously bad with mornings. Or maybe it’s the goodbyes that I can’t seem to get right.
***
The rain starts out as a light drizzle when Mara is driving us to campus in the morning before class. By noon, it’s morphed into a full-on storm with harsh, pelting raindrops and ashy clouds moving quickly across the sky.
This is one of those rare times when I wish that I’d taken my mother’s advice and opted to keep that red travel umbrella she gave me last month stowed inside my bag. I’m supposed to meet Jodi and her new boy-toy, Kyle, at a little deli off-campus for lunch in less than five minutes.
Thunder rumbles overhead and a quick flash of lightning lights up the dark sky.
“Crap,” I mumble and step back under a curved overhang buffeting the steps of the building. I’ll have to wait this out for a bit.
A few like-minded students are huddled against the rough concrete walls—some of them pulling out phones or books to occupy themselves while we wait. I peer out again and sigh. I need to send Jodi a quick text to let her know that I’m going to be late for lunch so I reach into the front pocket of my bag to dig for my phone. I find it but as I maneuver my arm forward, the purple-encased iPhone slips from my fingers and takes a tumble down the steps to land facedown on the concrete walkway below.
“No-no-no-no!” I shout, hunching my shoulders in preparation for a sprint into the rain.
“Hold up.” The anorak-clad guy standing closest to me touches my arm before shooting past me into the rain to grab my phone.
A thank you seems inadequate but it’s all I’ve got. “Thank you. I-I—just—thanks—I—” Surprise halts the jumbled words in my throat as he pushes the bright blue hood of his jacket back and shakes out his coppery hair.
“No prob—”
The two of us stare at each other in silence. It’s strange how one bit of time and space can pull everything apart and be filled with so much emotion that it chokes you and spits you out. This is what I’m thinking as a dripping wet Daniel Kearns hands over my phone.
“Thank you,” I murmur shakily, wiping the screen of the phone with the bottom of my shirt. “It looks like it’s probably going to survive.” Survive. Why would I choose that word? It’s like I’m shoving things in Daniel’s face that he doesn’t need to see.
“Good to hear. I can’t stand to see perfectly good iPhones getting chucked into the rain.”
I clear my throat awkwardly and pull the ends of my hair over my shoulder. It’s a tangled mess from all the moisture in the air and the fact that I barely bothered to brush it this morning. “I thought that you guys left for the triathlon already.”
As soon as the words have left my mouth, I want to kick myself. I have no idea what, if anything, Cole has told Daniel about us and I’ve just admitted that I know what his travel schedule is. Unless Daniel is an idiot, I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to put two and two together.
Daniel looks at me and then out at rain-soaked campus. “I’m not doing it. It’s just Nate, Quentin, Cole and Brady.” He shakes rain from the bottom of his jacket.
“Oh. I just…” I just what? I shift on my feet and neither of us speaks for a moment.
Daniel breaks first. “So,” he says, and I can tell by his tone what’s coming next. “You and Cole?”
I shake my head. “It’s not like you’re thinking.”
Daniel’s face smooths out and his warm brown eyes get rounder. “You can tell what I’m thinking, Aimee?”
“No.” I shrug, half-embarrassed that I’ve given anything away. “I’m just assuming because it’s what everyone around us has been thinking lately and it’s not happening. Honestly. Cole and I are just friends.” I wonder how many times I’ll have to say that out loud to make it sound true.