Page 35 of The Obvious Check

It’s only when he opens the front passenger seat door and sits down that my jaw drops. “What are you doing?”

He moves my bag to the driver’s seat and shimmies his shoulders, getting comfortable.

“Now that I know you’re planning on sleeping in front of a chicken joint, there’s no way you’d think I’d leave you out here is there?” I stay silent. “What kind of asshole would that make me?” His tone is light but his eyes are dead serious. He’s challenging me to find a better option than the one he’s offering, and we both know that doesn’t exist.

“Uh.”

He fiddles around with the side of the passenger seat and all of a sudden, the chair falls back. His head is practically in my lap.

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why not? You sleep in the back, and I’ll sleep up front. It’s the perfect solution.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Does your car even lock?” he asks, fiddling with the door.

“Cade, thank you for offering to stay with me, and your home. It’s a very nice offer…”

“Savannah.” He stops, turning his bulky body so his shoulder is resting on the seat, and he looks at me. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I’m not like Luke. I just want to make sure you don’t get hurt tonight. So you either come home with me and sleep in my very comfortable guest bedroom, or I’ll spendthe night here. If we are planning to sleep in cars, though, might I suggest we sleep in mine? There’s a lot more space, and the doors lock, meaning I won’t be up every minute, checking on you. Hang on, let me see if I can google that seat belt trick truckers use when they’re sleeping.”

He pulls his phone out and searches away. How lucky he is to not even worry about his battery life or the speed of the Wi-Fi connection he’s not stealing from the Hat trick’n Chicken.

Even though he’s leaving me with no real option, it doesn’t feel the same as when Luke does it. It feels like a friend helping out another friend.

“O-okay.”

“To moving to my car? You won’t regret it. I’ll put the heated seats on and warm you up.”

“No. To staying at your house.”

He looks at me, surprise flickering across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I sigh, too drained to even think about dealing with my freezing car. The idea of a real bed, one that isn’t lumpy and miserable, sounds way too good to pass up.

And that's how I end up following him home, just for a good night's sleep. At least that's what I tell myself as I trail his taillights through the darkness—not because I've been dreaming about this moment since I first saw him, not because my heart skips every time he looks at me. Just for the mattress. Nothing more.

The elevator doors open and Cade casually walks out, only looking over his shoulder when I don’t move.

“You coming?” he asks.

I hesitate for a few seconds too long, my brain running through every horror movie scenario where the naive girl follows the hotguy to his apartment. As I finally step through the threshold, the elevator doors start to shut on me like they're trying to make a decision for me. Cade turns, his hand slapping against the metal with enough force to make me jump, pushing the doors back.

“Thanks,” I say, slipping past him, then I wait for him to walk in front of me. He does, and I inwardly laugh at our awkward little dance.

“I only moved in a couple of months ago, so I warn you it’s nothing special. The guest room looks nice because my sister, Madison, decorated it. The rest of the place could use some love.” Cade speaks fast, barely looking at me as we walk down the hallway. Does he think I’m going to judge him? Does he realize that four walls are considered a luxury for me?

I follow behind him, noting the plush hallway carpets and the smell of fresh paint. “I thought you lived on campus.”

He looks over his shoulder, and he flashes me the barest hint of a smile. “Did you? Have you been keeping tabs on me?” His eyebrows waggle at the prospect.

My cheeks flush and I draw my gaze back down. “Uh, no, I’ve just heard you talk about it at the end of class.”

“Good memory, and you’re right. I used to live on campus. Moved here when this place opened.”

That explains the smell of fresh paint. I wonder what an apartment like this would cost to live in. I inwardly laugh. Why does it matter? It’s not like I’m ever going to be able to afford it.

“Why? Surely, being off campus is a lot more inconvenient.”

---