Page 106 of Victorious: Part I

I nod, setting the flashlight down. “Freaky little stalker.”

That makes her smile. “I’m going to put out some jerky for it. The poor guy is probably just hungry.”

“Actually, that’s probably a good idea. Keep the bastard happy, and he might send some good juju our way instead, the little fucker.”

She ignores my grumbling, setting a few pieces of jerky near the doorway before retreating back to the sleeping bag. “So, sleeping arrangements?” she asks, raising her brow questionably.

And there it is—the question I’ve been dreading.

“You take the sleeping bag,” I say immediately. “I’ll use your blanket.”

She frowns. “That’s not fair. You’ll freeze.”

“I’ve lived through much worse conditions. I’ll be fine.”

She scowls at me. “Phoenix, don’t be stupid. We can share the sleeping bag. It’s big enough.”

My heart rate spikes at the suggestion, my cock instantly giving me prior warning. “Not a good idea.”

“Why not? We’re both adults. We can handle sleeping next to each other for one night.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of—that Ican’thandle it.

“Your brother would kill me,” I say instead.

She rolls her eyes. “My brother isn’t here. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She pats the space beside her. “Come on. It’s getting cold, and neither of us wants to be miserable all night.”

I should refuse.

I should insist on taking the floor with just the blanket.

But the desert night is getting colder by the minute, and as if on cue, a howling wind races through the ticketing booth, sending a chill straight through my body, causing my skin to pebble with goose bumps. Clover raises her brow at me in a look of ‘see.’ And I huff, shaking my head in annoyance.

“Fine,” I concede, moving toward the sleeping bag. “But stay on your side.”

She smirks. “I’lltryto control myself.”

It’s not you I’m worried about.

Kicking off my boots, I slide in next to her, careful to keep as much space between us as possible in the confined quarters. We’re both still fully clothed, but somehow, this feels more intimate than anything I’ve done in a long time.

“Better?” she asks, her voice too close to my ear.

“Yeah,” I lie.

Better for my body temperature, maybe.

One hundred percent worse for my sanity.

We lie side by side, staring up at the partially collapsed ceiling. Through the gaps, I see stars twinkling in the black sky. The silence stretches between us, not exactly uncomfortable but charged with something I can’t—or won’t—name.

“Phoenix?” Clover’s voice is quiet in the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what happens when all this is over?”

I turn to look at her. “When what is over?”

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