Page 62 of Deal Breaker
I hit send before I have a chance to overthink it. And then I wait.
One minute.
Two.
And then?—
Landyn: Yeah.
I stare at the screen, thumb hovering, when another message comes through.
Landyn: Can’t sleep. You too?
I don’t reply. I’m already grabbing my keycard off the dresser. Already stepping out into the hallway. Already heading toward her door.
I knock once and wait in the empty hallway, adrenaline rushing through me. The ice machine across the hall hums. A door thuds shut somewhere nearby. My heart kicks like it’s trying to escape my ribcage.
And then her door opens.
Her hair has been pulled from its bun and she’s barefootwearing a loose T-shirt and a pair of soft cotton shorts that make it really fucking hard to remember why I shouldn’t be standing here right now. She looks jittery, like maybe she’s spent the last hour pacing her room too.
She blinks up at me but doesn’t say anything right away. Neither do I, because seeing her like this—unguarded, vulnerable —is almost too much.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say finally.
She nods. “I know.”
We stand there, a breath apart. Closer than we should be. Still not close enough.
Her fingers tighten slightly around the edge of the door and for a second, I think she’s going to close it, to make some excuse not to let me in.
Instead, she takes a step backwards.
And just like that, I’m inside.
TWENTY-THREE
Landyn
Ford steps into the room, and then we just stand there looking at each other—me barefoot and in my pajamas, him still fully dressed. I try to still my hammering heart. Everything is fine, I tell it. This is totally normal.
Except it’s not.
There’s nothing normal about the way Ford looks at me. Like he wants to touch me, but he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he does.
“I’m not here to start anything,” he says quietly, his hands in his pockets like he’s trying to keep them from reaching for me. “I just…wanted to be with you.”
The simple honesty of it makes my chest ache. I nod, because God, I get that too. “Me too.”
The air is thick with silence. I walk to the bed and sit down on the far side, curling my legs beneath me. He follows, slower, lowering himself to sit beside me. The mattress shifts, our shoulders just barely brushing.
“Do you remember the first time we went camping?” I ask.
He looks over at me. “Silver Lake.”
I smile faintly. “You thought I’d be okay sleeping in a tent.”
“I got you an air mattress and I brought my duvet from home for us because you were worried you’d be too cold in your sleeping bag.”
