Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

CAMMIE

C hase appears in the room again. Still shirtless.

My entire body goes haywire as his eyes meet mine. Chase Lovett is making intentional eye contact with me . I pinch the inside of my arm just to make sure I’m awake. “I guess it wasn’t a fever dream after all.”

“You can talk.” Chase stands half a dozen feet away with his hands propped on his narrow hips, every last one of his rippling, cut abs on display.

That sexy V of muscle teases my eyeballs, dragging them lower, to where his jogging pants ride seriously low.

But even in my dreams, I never get to the point where I touch what’s underneath. Or see it. I also never get to the point where his hand goes down my pants. Dream Chase’s fingers never glide over a bare nipple, and his dream mouth never makes it past my collarbones.

“Uh, yeah,” I croak.

I’m actually speaking to Chase Lovett. Most popular guy in our dorm—maybe even the entire university. At least in first year. All the girls want to get with him. Including this wallflower. And here he is, standing in front of me without a damn shirt, and all I can do is mutter a couple of words .

“Are you Cameron?”

“Yeah.”

He nods and runs his hand through his thick, luscious locks. In my dreams, I’ve done that, too. “I tried to get Colby to switch me rooms, but it’s all drama downstairs so we’re stuck with each other for tonight at least. If I had somewhere else sanitary to go, I’d stay there.”

If I could melt into the bed, I definitely would. “Sorry I’m not cool enough for you,” I mumble. I should have accepted defeat an hour ago and called Essie, but it’s officially the middle of the night.

His eyes flare. “Whoa. Hey. That’s not what I meant.” He holds up both hands. “I just mean that I’m a dude and they probably made the same mistake I did, thinking your name meant we both had swords instead of tulips.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You know.” He motions to his crotch. “Sword.” Then he points to me with one hand and his mouth with the other. “Tulips.”

I pull my hood over my head and roll onto my side, laughing uncontrollably.

“I’m not wrong,” Chase grumbles.

It takes me a good two minutes to calm down enough to sit up. I wipe my eyes and sigh. “No, Chase, you are not wrong.”

His brow quirks. “You know my name.”

I roll my eyes. “Seriously? Every first year on campus knows who you are, and probably a good percentage of the second years, too.” I close my laptop. I’m obviously not getting any more writing done tonight. “You know, if you don’t like your roommate situation, all you have to do is go down to the lobby dressed as you are and I’m sure someone will invite you back to their room for party time.”

“I have practice in the morning and that kind of party isn’t good for my on-ice performance.” He’s so matter-of-fact about it.

“Right. Okay. Well, we should probably get the couch ready so you can get your beauty sleep.” Also, I’ve managed to string together a few coherent sentences and I’m probably reaching my limit.

I cross my fingers he has a chivalrous bone in his body and doesn’t make me sleep on the pullout once it’s set up. Chase pushes the coffee table out of the way while I remove the cushions. He steps in to pull it out. The springs creak ominously.

“That’s not a reassuring sound.”

“It probably hasn’t been used in a while,” I offer.

It’s already made up with sheets, so all we have to do is grab the spare pillow and comforter from the closet. My palms are sweaty, and my imagination is in overdrive as we spread the duvet over the thin, shitty mattress. Never in a million years did I imagine I’d be making a bed with Chase Lovett. Or sleeping in the same room as him.

Our eyes meet across the bed. My vagina tingles and my mouth goes dry.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Oh.” I wring my hands and give him my best innocent eyes. The couch looks terrifying. “Are you sure?”

He nods and glances longingly at the king bed before refocusing on the saggy pullout. “Yeah. For sure. It’s just for one night.”

“It can’t be that bad, right?”

We both nod.

It’s getting awkward again. “Do you want to use the bathroom first or should I?”

“You can go first, for sure.”

I nervously rummage around in my backpack for my toothbrush and toothpaste. It’s a leftover habit from my braces days. I disappear into the bathroom, heaving a huge sigh of relief as I close the door and flip the lock. I’m not sure how I’ll survive a night in the same room with Chase. I basically dream about him at least twice a week. I sincerely hope I don’t accidentally moan his name in my sleep .

I’m halfway through brushing my teeth when a huge crash startles me. I rush to unlock the door and poke my head into the room.

“For fuck’s sake,” Chase mutters.

Chase’s feet and arms are raised in the air, his long body folded in half and stuck inside the gaping hole in the center of the pullout couch. He’s busted right through the springs.

“Hold on! I’m coming to help!” I quickly spit my mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, use the sleeve of my new, excessively large school hoodie to wipe my mouth, and rush over to help. The mattress has sunk into the hole where the springs gave way. Stuffing and more springs poke out of the bottom. It sort of reminds me of a cartoon character stuck inside a Venus flytrap. He grabs the edges of the mattress to pull himself back out, but all it does is force him deeper into the hole.

“Stop flailing and give me your hand.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got this.”

“Really? Because it looks like you don’t have this. At all. Just give me your hand.” I extend one but have to push the extra-long sleeve up to my elbow for the seven hundredth time.

Chase tips his head back and gives me an appraising, doubtful look. “What do you weigh, a buck ten? How are you going to help?”

I roll my eyes. “Do you want to be stuck there all night or what?”

He takes my hand and I swear fireworks explode in my lady business. Chase tries to brace his other arm behind him, but all it does is break the bed more. It does create more space for him to move around in, though. Eventually one side of the mattress falls to the floor, allowing him to stand up and climb out of the destroyed sofa bed.

“Well, that’s a giant piece of shit. They better not charge me for breaking it.” Chase’s fists are propped on his narrow hips again.

His hair is a delightful, rumpled mess, his face is red, and sweat beads on his temples. It’s exactly how he looks in my dreams.

I avert my gaze back to the bed. “They’ll probably think we had swing-from-the-rafters sex on it.” The sudden additional awkwardness is as uncomfortable as an itchy wool blanket.

I can feel Chase’s eyes on me. “Why the hell would we have swing-from-the-rafters sex on a shitty pullout couch when there’s an enormous, probably super comfortable king bed right there?” He thumbs over his shoulder.

I keep my eyes fixed on the broken sofa bed. “So no one would have to sleep in the wet spot.” Why can’t I just keep my stupid mouth shut?

“That’s actually a good point.”

I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

He pokes at his cheek with his tongue. “I can sleep in the tub or something.”

I sigh. The king bed is huge. The tub would barely fit him. Plus, if I don’t at least offer, I look like a jerk and he’ll probably say mean things about me to his friends. “Or we could use pillows as a divider, and we can each have half of the bed.” There, I’ve extended the offer. Essie would be proud.

“Deal.” He yanks the comforter down and grabs the pillows from the floor, arranging them in a row down the middle. “We can even have our own comforters. What side do you usually sleep on? Left or right? I usually sleep on the right, but if that’s your preferred side, you have it.” He looks at me expectantly.

I shrug. Dorm beds are tiny so it’s hard to say which side I gravitate to. “I can take the left.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He’s still shirtless.

What if he gets into bed and he’s wearing nothing but those pants? How will I sleep two feet away from him and his bare chest and his glorious muscles and exceptional hotness?

“There’s an extra set of clothes in the bathroom,” I blurt.

He runs his hand over his chest and glances at my bare legs. “ Cool. I’ll just get ready.” He spins around and heads for the bathroom. I watch the muscles in his back and admire his ass.

I definitely won’t be getting much sleep.

While he’s in the bathroom, I send a quick message to my best friend. We met online a year ago and both love Lord of the Rings . We’ve never met in person, but we exchange messages daily through our fanfic chat.

Earlier she asked if we were hit by the storm. I told her our dorm flooded thanks to the sprinklers, and now we were stuck in a hotel down the street for the foreseeable future.

@legagornsandwich

Remember the hockey player I’m lusting after?

@therealophelia

How could I forget? Is he in the hotel with you?

@legagornsandwich

He’s my roommate for the night.

@therealophelia

Seriously????? HOW?

@legagornsandwich

Gender neutral first name. They made a mistake and put us together.

And there is only one bed.

@therealophelia

OMG

OMFGGGGGGGGGG

Ride him like a bucking bronco.

@legagornsandwich

In my dreams. Literally.

The water stops running in the bathroom.

@legagornsandwich

He’s coming out of the bathroom soon. Wish me luck.

@therealophelia

Luck!

Channel your inner Arwen.

I shove my phone into my backpack and remember I’m not wearing pants. I quickly jam my legs into the pyjama pants they provided. Chase comes out of the bathroom while I’m trying to cinch them around the waist by pulling the drawstring as tight as it will go. I tie a quick bow, praying they’ll stay where they are, but they slide down my legs and pool at my feet.

He rubs his full bottom lip. “Those are a little big on you, huh?”

I hold my fingers a fraction of an inch apart. “Just a touch.”

He snickers.

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Everything I came here in is still soaking wet.”

“Yeah. I saw your stuff in the bathroom.”

Horror hits me. My Lord of the Rings “My Precious” underwear is hanging on the shower rod.

I avoid looking at him and slide between the sheets, turning off the bedside lamp before I pull the covers up over my head. “Night.”

“Night.” The bed dips and he flicks off the other light, submerging us in darkness. He settles in, rustling around a bit, maybe trying to get comfortable while I lie here like a frozen corpse.

His breathing evens out in less than two minutes.

“Of course,” I mutter.

He’s one of those people whose head hits the pillow and two seconds later they’re dead to the world. Essie is like that. So is my dad. I’m the person who has to read for an hour before my mind settles enough to allow sleep. But I can’t read right now. And I don’t want to move and risk waking him. So I stare at the ceiling and pray to the Gods of Embarrassment that I don’t dream about him tonight.

I must eventually pass out because when I wake, the clock is flashing, signaling the power went out. The wind howls outside, and rain continues to patter the window. It makes the already urgent need to pee that much more unbearable. I quietly slide out of bed and am momentarily confused by my surroundings until I remember that my dorm room has been rained on by the sprinklers and I’m at the hotel down the street. And I’m sleeping next to the guy I’ve been lusting after for weeks.

I hustle to the bathroom and close the door, then feel around for the light switch, blinking against the horrible brightness as my eyes struggle to adjust. I lock the door, gather up the giant hoodie, and nearly end up sitting in the toilet because the seat is up. “Fucking dudes and their noodles,” I gripe.

I flip it down, and it hits the porcelain with a thwack. I’m too desperate to care if I wake up my roommate. I unleash a waterfall and groan at the relief. Once I’m done, I flush, wash my hands, and check to see if my clothes are dry. My pants are still damp, but my shirt and undies are dry. I fold the shirt and tuck my underwear between them but leave them on the vanity for morning.

I flick off the light before I leave the bathroom and wait a good thirty seconds for my eyes to readjust to the darkness before I open the door. I don’t make it three steps before a huge looming figure appears in front of me.

Self-preservation mode is instantly activated. I grab the thick, well-muscled arm and come in low with my right shoulder, flipping the huge figure over my back.

It isn’t until Chase lands on the floor with a groan and a thud that makes the whole room shake, that I realize my mistake.