King Sized Beds and Happy Trails (Beds Series) by Becca Ann, Tessa Marie Page A

and wake me up in it, I don’t think I would’ve minded if she sang Sean I Think I Love You in front of the entire senior class.
    And even though it sucks , ‘cause things seem to be working on this stupid operation, it’s good to see Lex…happy. I’ve seen her like this before, but not as often as I’d like.
    I shut off the water and climb out of the shower, taking my time drying off. Hot tubs are great for ski resorts, but I really think it’s just so the security guys can have a laugh at everyone pansy dancing in the snow as they try to hurry back to their warm cabins.
    Lex called shower first, and I'd never seen her in just a towel. She just pranced right out, wet hair and towel wrapped around her like it was nothing. I tried to act “whatever” about it, but I’m pretty sure my jaw fell to the floor. It’s not just the fact she’s hot—because she is—but that she trusts me enough to room with me like it’s no big deal. And if I walked out in nothing but a towel, I’m pretty sure she’d start a towel whipping war or something.
    Part of me likes that she’s that comfortable around me, an d the other part thinks it stinks. Because that’s friend zone.
    Sti ll, good to be up here and see her just be Lexie. This week’s going to be better than I thought.
    I pull on my boxers, pj bottoms, and tank and do a fake guitar strum out of the bathroom, humming I Think I Love You , because now that song is in my head. I wait for the ribbing from Lex about how I should never ever sing, but she’s quiet, curled up in bed with her eyes closed.
    And she took my side. The goof .
    Turning off the touch lamp that took a good hour to figure out how to use, I climb under the covers, trying to be careful about not touching her. Don’t want to cross any boundaries we may or may not have set. The only one I remember was to keep the morning wood away from her.
    Agreed.
    I hear a sigh from her side of the bed, which feels miles away. It’s not a pissy sigh, but an “I like it here” kind of sigh. Makes the corners of my mouth turn up, and I rest my head against my hands as I listen to her breathing.
    “Ry?”
    “Hmm?”
    “How tired are you?”
    I turn my head to look at her figure, but it’s too dark to make anything out.
    “I’m not. You?”
    There’s movement, sort of feels like she’s shrugging. No, she’s not shrugging. I lean up on my elbows and squint to try to make out anything in the darkness. I can’t really see, but what looks like shadowy hands stretch out in front of her, I notice the small twist of her pinky ring.
    “What’s on your m ind?” I say in the arrogant way that lets her know I know her too well, and I’m not going to ignore her silence.
    She drops her hands on the blanket , and they land with a soft thud. “I know you don’t want to hear it.”
    I grin, even though she can’t see it. “Try me.”
    She turns, moving a little closer to me, but not enough that we’re touching. “Okay, it’s the D word.” Another shift closer. I don’t say anything. We don’t talk about our parents. We know what went down, had our big huge discussion when we were younger, and agreed never to talk about them again. To not give them more power over us.
    She sighs. A pissy one this time. “Told you, you didn’t want to hear it.”
    Her arms move, and I know she’s twisting that ring again. Her breathing is coming out funky too. As much as I want to block it all out, never hear about this again, I know she needs to talk about it. So I close my eyes and scratch the back of my head.
    “What about your dad?”
    The blanket lifts off me as she sits up. She’s still twisting that damn ring. I heave myself up to sit next to her and rub her back.
    “I know we don’t talk about our parents, but since we’ll be in the same bed for a week, I should probably warn you.”
    “Okay…”
    She turns her head to look at me. Her breath smells like toothpaste—the cinnamon kind. I think it tastes like shit,