Page 94 of Night Shift

“No shit,” Vincent says. “I’m gonna need to wash your sheets.”

My face heats. “You don’t have to do that—”

“Shut up and let me take care of you, Holiday.”

I roll off Vincent so he can dart into my bathroom to take the condom off. He only leaves me sprawled out alone on my mattress for about fifteen seconds before he returns with one of my hand towels, soaked and wrung out so it doesn’t drip all over my floor. With one dry corner, he blots sweat and a little bit of foundation off my forehead, and then he wipes between my legs with a few gentle passes of the wet side of the towel. He used warm water. That was nice.

But Vincent’s always nice.

Well. Almost always.

Vincent tosses the towel in my half-full laundry basket, then comes back to the bed. But rather than sit on the perfectly open stretch of mattress next to me, he throws the entire length of his enormous body directly on top of me, like he’s my own personal weighted blanket.

Air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.

“Hey,” he says into my neck.

“Hey,” I grunt back.

“You wanna grab dinner or something?”

I laugh breathlessly. “Like, right now?”

He shakes his head against the crook of my shoulder. “No. For now, we’re just going to do this, so you know I’m not going anywhere this time.”

My eyes feel tight and wet.

For a long moment, we stay like that. Sandwiched together. Vincent hums in contentment when I stroke my nails over the back of his head through his sweat-damp hair.

“I mean, I am a little hungry,” I finally murmur.

Vincent lifts himself up on his elbows. “We should probably put on some clothes first. And you should chug some water and take an Advil or something. But I meant what I said about going on a real date. There’s this new Thai restaurant downtown that opened up over the summer. I’ve only had it through Postmates, but it looks nice online. It’s probably nice and cozy in the rain. Wanna check it out?”

“I could definitely go for some Thai food.”

Vincent nods, like it’s settled. “C’mon. I’m taking you out.”

He stands up from the bed and crosses my room in two easy strides to collect his shirt and jeans from the floor. Vincent frowns when he looks back and realizes I haven’t moved.

“Or we could order delivery,” he offers, sounding like he might actually prefer the idea of staying here, just the two of us. He braces his hands against the mattress on either side of my waist and leans over me, smiling with such honest and uninhibited joy that it momentarily knocks the wind out of me. “You could still make it to your shift if you wanted to, Holiday. I’ll walk you to the library. I’ll even hang around and bug you for more reading recommendations until you kick me out. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to give anything up for me. I’ll have practices and games and stuff, and you’ll have your time to do your thing too. You’re still in charge.”

My heart hiccups.

I’m done being afraid. No more hiding from my life. No more living every Friday night like it doesn’t really belong to me, or like the only good adventure worth having is printed on pages. My TBR list isn’t going anywhere, and I’ve only missed one other night shift this semester. Margie won’t be too mad if I call in sick again.

“We’re going out,” I announce, hopping off my bed. “And I’m paying.”

Vincent arches an eyebrow. “Your treat, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. This guy who’s taking a poetry class Venmoed me a hundred bucks for a thirty-minute tutoring session. Total sucker.”

He catches my wrist and pulls me in close.

“In his defense,” he says, “he’s shit at flirting.”

I don’t think either of us is entirely done exploring this new and wonderful world we’ve unlocked. Maybe he’s not quite tired of playing with my phenomenal tits; maybe I’m still a little curious what his stubble would feel like against my thighs. But right now, going out to dinner sounds like a dream. To hold hands on the sidewalk, to sit side by side in a little booth by the window, to talk and laugh and exchange anecdotes and fun facts and secrets—one at a time, savoring each—until the restaurant closes and they kick us out. And then, if the rain has stopped, we can take a long walk around the moonlit campus, or we can come right back here, to my bed, and talk until we can’t stay awake.

We don’t have to choose right now. We get more than a few hundred pages of hand-selected moments together. There’s no rush. No last page to turn to.

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