Page 63 of First Echo

She looked away first, falling back against her pillow with a small laugh that seemed to break whatever spell had momentarily fallen over us. I found myself laughing too, the sound filling our small room with unexpected warmth. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed like this with anyone, let alone with Madeline Hayes.

I switched off the lamp, not trusting myself with the way the light painted her features, making everything between us feel too real, too possible. Darkness felt safer, a shield against whatever was building between us.

After a few minutes of silence, I shifted in my bed, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. A slight chill had crept into the room, and I shivered despite myself.

"Are you cold?" Madeline asked, noticing the movement.

"A little."

"That's what you get for picking the bed across the room from the heater."

"Youpickedyours before I could blink," I reminded her.

"Because I'm smarter."

I smirked, even though she couldn't see it in the dark. "Debatable."

"What's to debate? I'm over here all warm and cozy, and you're over there shivering like you're in the Arctic."

"Maybe I like the cold," I countered, though another shiver betrayed my lie.

"Right," she said, skepticism dripping from her voice. "That's why your teeth are practically chattering."

"They are not," I protested, though I was clenching them to keep them from doing exactly that.

A brief silence fell, and then she spoke again, her voice carrying a note of hesitation I wasn't used to hearing from her."You want to come over here or are you just going to freeze out of spite?"

The offer caught me completely off guard. My heart did a strange stutter-step in my chest, and for a moment, I couldn't find words to respond. MadelineGraceHayes was inviting me into her bed. The same Madeline who'd been avoiding eye contact with me just hours earlier, who'd run from whatever had been building between us for days.

"I—what?" I managed, suddenly not trusting my hearing.

"The heater's on this side," she explained, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. "And you're clearly freezing. So either grab another blanket or stop being stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," I argued weakly.

"You're the definition of stubborn," she countered. "It's actually impressive how stubborn you are."

"Says the girl who threw a fit because I called her middle name 'kind of' pretty."

"That was a legitimate grievance."

I laughed despite myself, the sound breaking some of the tension that had gathered in my chest. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're avoiding the question," she said. "Are you coming over here or not? Because I'm getting cold just thinking about how cold you must be."

I hesitated, weighing the dangers of proximity against the cold that had settled into my bones. Getting into bed with Madeline felt like crossing a line, like stepping over some invisible boundary we'd established between us. But the thought of her warmth, of closing the distance that had stretched between us for so long, was irresistibly tempting.

"Fine," I said finally, trying to sound put-upon rather than nervous. "But only because hypothermia isn't on my agenda for tonight."

"Such a drama queen," she teased.

With a dramatic sigh I hoped would mask my sudden nervousness, I grabbed my pillow.

"You're the worst," I said, standing up.

"And yet here you are," she replied, scooting over to make room. There was something almost smug in her voice, as if she'd won a game I hadn't realized we were playing.

I crossed the short distance between our beds, hyperaware of each step, of how surreal this moment felt. This was MadelineGraceHayes—queen bee, social royalty, the girl who'd barely acknowledged my existence before I became her tutor—making room for me in her bed as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

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