Page 21 of Fly with Me

Cold shower.

Right.

It took Olive thirty minutes to untangle her hair enough to get it out of the braids. Dirt and dust had caked into a disgusting paste in every crevice of her body. It didn’t help that she was so stiff it took double the time as usual for her to wash herself. She may or may not have taken a few extra minutes to ensure that her legs and underarms were freshly shaved.

When she came out, she was clean, wearing her favorite (and not at all understatedly sexy) rust-colored romper, and feeling like she might look like an appropriate person to sit beside Stella. Or under her. Or on top of her face.

Jesus.

The food sat on the table untouched but smelling amazing.

She’d waited for Olive to start eating?

Well, that was incredibly thoughtful.

And Stella…

Gorgeous, well-kempt, never-a-hair-out-of-place Stella was passed out. Snoring, drooling, and cuddling a pillow with her elbow tucked adorably beneath her head.

Olive stood there watching for at least forty-five seconds longer than would have been normal and not creepy. Torn between concerns about Stella’s food getting cold and the desire to let Stella sleep, Olive ate a couple of fries and guzzled a bottle of warm Gatorade from her backpack. The salty calories staved off the edge of dizzy exhaustion.

She leaned across the bed and touched Stella’s shoulder. “Stella?”

Stella mumbled something that might have been either “I’ll be up in a minute” or “I’ll kill you if you don’t let me sleep.” It was hard to tell.

Given that Stella had dutifully waited for Olive to get out of the shower before eating, Olive felt she could at least let Stella finish her nap.

Olive grabbed her phone and sat on the edge of the bed as far away as possible from Stella. She skimmed through several good-luck texts from Derek and Joni and her cousins, replied to them, and then she didn’t remember anything else.

Chapter 10

Golden light tinted the room when Olive woke. She was still in almost the same position she’d been in when she’d fallen asleep, near the edge of the bed on her back. The most important difference in her situation was that a long, soft arm reached across her chest. Every inhale smelled of lilacs and vanilla, and a foot twitched between her own.

It was heavenly.

She’d never woken in someone’s arms before. It amazed her that she’d been able to sleep at all. Yet if she’d closed her eyes again, she could stay like this for an eternity. It felt—well, it felt like something more than she expected but also less. It felt comfortable. Like home. Not awkward.

A few of Olive’s sore muscles tingled and complained. She shifted slightly as she began to wake up enough to engage in her normal pattern of overthinking. Stella woke up all at once. She leaped off Olive as if she’d been injected with some kind of panic, anti-snuggle amphetamine.

“I’m so so sorry,” Stella stammered. “I’m a sleep cuddler.”

Unable to stop herself, Olive burst out laughing. Being a sleep cuddler was pretty much the most on-brand Stella thing ever. Even in sleep, she went the extra mile and overachieved.

“I just… I always get cold, and I search for a heat source.”

“A heat source?” Olive suppressed a smile.

“Yeah… my roommates in college used to say that I’d spoon an alligator if it ended up in my bed.”

“But aren’t alligators cold-blooded?”

“You know, I pointed out that flaw in their logic, too. They said it didn’t matter.” She sounded ruffled. Anxious and jittery. It was cute, and Olive was torn between teasing her and giving her an out.

“I didn’t mind, Stella. Really. I slept amazing. I was… I- have-literally-no-idea-what-time-it-is-right-now type unconscious.”

Stella flipped on a light, both women groaning at the searing pain against their sleep-addled irises. “Oh gosh. It’s five thirty.”

“We slept six hours?” As if in open rebellion, Olive’s stomach made a sound less like a rumble and more like a Jurassic Park–level roar.

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