Page 53 of The Best Friend Power Play

He glances over, then averts his gaze. The back of his head bobs. "Of course."

"Thanks. I'll be back in a minute."

I duck into the bathroom and replace the towel with Culver's shirt. It's one I've seen him wear a lot around the house, and even though it's clean, it still carries the faint scent of him. I pull the front of the shirt over my nose and inhale deeply.

When I lower it back down, I spot my reflection in the foggy mirror.

I'm smiling.

I look…happy.

I am happy.

This is fun and silly, and when was the last time I did anything fun and silly?

Isn't that what the hot girl summer is all about?

When I step back into the room, Culver is still battling with the uncooperative sofa. He stops as soon as he sees me, his eyes lingering on his shirt on my body, and he gives a small nod.

"Stupid thing is jammed," he tells me when I stand next to him.

He subtly checks me out once more.

"I know the shirt is big"—understatement; like with the first shirt of his I wore, I am positively drowning in it—"but does it look bad?"

"No." He sweeps his hand through his hair, his gaze so intense it makes my skin hot. "You look great, Hannah."

"Cool…thanks. Should we, um, get back to the couch?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. The couch. This is as far as it goes."

The pull-out mechanism seems to be stuck midway so the mattress is partially exposed and the frame is only half-extended.

I grab the steel bar and try to wrestle with it, but the stubborn thing doesn't budge, whether I pull it or push it. I rest my hip against it and use my bodyweight to force it.

Still nothing.

"Your assessment appears correct. The stupid thing is jammed." I step back and wipe my hands. "On the plus side, our room now comes with a modern art installation. On the minus side, I'll have to take the floor."

"You are not taking the floor."

"But I was going to take the couch."

Culver presses the back of his hand against my forehead.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Checking to see if you're running a fever because there's no way unaffected Hannah would ever think I'd let her sleep on a fold-out sofa."

"But you wouldn't have fit on it," I counter.

"Doesn't matter." He moves his hand away. "I'd have made it work."

"It's a moot point now anyway."

We both stare at the half-unfolded couch.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he says, his voice rumbling with authority.

---