It takes her several excruciating long seconds to do anything other than stare. She blinks repeatedly. At first, I’m worried she’s having another dizzy spell. “Sophie?”

“Kipton, I–” She turns her head and looks toward the window, words failing her. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You may not want to hear all of this right now, but it’s the truth. I’m putting myself out there, like I’m asking you to do. It’s scary as fuck, but I know what I want. What do you want?” Holding her hand in mine, I rub my thumb back and forth over the palm of her hand. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. But I needed you to know where I stand.”

She watches her hand in mine before exhaling deeply. “How can you possibly want me? I’m an absolute mess.”

I raise her chin with my finger, forcing her to make eye contact. “You had me so intrigued from the moment we met, but I won’t lie, Sophie. What you’re doing scares the shit out of me. I want you to get better. I need you to.”

Her tears start to fall. And for the first time since she arrived, the real Sophie’s cracking through the surface. “I’m scared too.” She tries to shield her face from me, but I won’t let her.

“I know you are, beautiful. Come here.” She slides off my chest and curls up under my arm.

“Nobody’s ever told me those words before, Kipton.”

“What words? That I want you?”

“Yes. It’s always been a lie or hate.”

I kiss the top of her head with the realization that it doesn’t matter what her answer is. I’m all in regardless. “I’ll never hate you.”

It’s only when my arm starts to fall asleep that I realize she never answered either of my questions. “Please tell me what the blood is from.”

Without skipping a beat, she responds honestly. “From throwing up.”

I figured as much, but my heart aches for her. As I pull her even closer, her phone rings. Searching the bed for her pants, she pulls it out of the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s Cara,” she says.

“Are you going to answer?”

She shakes her head and lets it ring. Turning her phone off entirely, she tosses it on the bedside table and pulls the comforter over her naked body. “Is it okay if I stay until morning? I’m not ready to go back yet.”

“Of course it is. I want you here with me.”

“Thank you for not judging me and for not yelling.”

“I’d never yell at you or judge you, Sophie. Get some sleep. It’s been a long ass day.” I lean over to kiss her lips. My intentions are innocent until she grabs the back of my head and deepens the kiss, surprising me again.

“Thank you.” When she releases me, I place one last peck on her lips, mouth and neck before lying back down on my side of the bed. I want nothing more than to hold her all night, especially if it keeps her safe in her dreams, but I wait for her to make the move. At first she stays where she’s at after shifting around several times. We’ve never shared a bed together unless I count the night she was unconscious.

Before long, her breathing evens out and though my eyes are closed, I’m aware of her movements. Slowly, her tiny arm reaches across my chest, using it as an anchor. Her head nestles into the crook of my arm and one of her legs rests overtop of mine. I squeeze her ass in the palm of my hand and kiss the top of her head. Strands of her hair are tickling my nose so I blow gently to rearrange them.

Appreciating each second I get to hold her in my arms, silently I say a few prayers for healing while begging God to help us through tomorrow and each day after. I assume she’s asleep until her lips softly peck my chest with a tiny kiss. “I’ve fallen for you too,” she says barely above a faint whisper. Although she may not have wanted me to hear, I know we have a shot after her honest confession.

I won’t let her lose the fight.

WAKING UP IN KIPTON’S BED isn’t nearly as scary when you can remember the events of the previous night. Unfortunately, they still weren’t pleasant. I almost wish I couldn’t remember my night, but then I wouldn’t have the memory of Kipton telling me I was his.

I roll over in the bed expecting to find his handsome face, but his side is empty. Before I have a chance to worry where he went, the door opens. Slipping back inside the room, Kipton greets me with a warm smile. “Morning, beautiful.”

I try not to, but I can’t control it. Blushing from his endearment, I manage to squeak out a good morning of my own.

“Breakfast is served.” He sets a tray of food on the end of the bed and leans down to place a gentle kiss on my lips. I could get used to waking up like this every day.

“What’s all that?”

Smiling broadly, he waves his hand in front of the tray like he’s Vanna White. “I made you breakfast in bed.”

I’m impressed. I don’t know many college guys capable of cooking anything besides toast or slapping some meat between two slices of bread. “You know how to cook?”

He scoffs playfully. “Of course I do. I took Home Economics in high school.”

Laughing, I cuddle up under the warm blankets. “So you can make grilled cheese, french toast, a smoothie, and macaroni and cheese?”

“Technically yes, but my mom also taught me a bunch of other things. It’s our thing—cooking together. Cara can’t cook for shit though.” That doesn’t surprise me at all. He slides underneath his side of the covers and pulls the tray on top of his lap. Bacon, pancakes, scrambled eggs, granola, and strawberries fill up every inch of the tray. “I didn’t know what you like, so I made a little of everything.”

I smile at his thoughtfulness and take a bite of the fruit. The berries are fresh, sweet, and delicious. Reaching over, I offer him a bite which he takes. I pull my hand away from his mouth, but he sucks my finger inside with the strawberry. Gently sucking, he flicks the tip with his tongue. After a few more seconds of teasing, he releases me from his mouth and swallows.

“Do you have class today?”

“What?” How he can go from sucking on my finger to regular conversation without skipping a beat is beyond me. My finger is still tingling from his tongue and he’s already moved on to something else.

Smirking, he knows how much his touch affects me. “Class. Do you have any today?”

“Oh. No. I have Friday’s off this semester. You?”

“I’m off too.”

I pick up another berry and take a bite. It’s cold on my sensitive teeth. “Can I have the granola?”

“Of course you can.” He hands me the bowl with milk already in it. We eat in silence for a few minutes, but it’s not awkward. I’m wondering when he’s planning on addressing the drama from last night. I know we still have a lot to talk about despite any progress we made—I’m going to get an earful at some point.

I almost spill my cereal when a bang strong enough to rattle the windows has someone cursing downstairs. Kipton laughs. “Don’t worry, the guys are downstairs cleaning up the mess. They usually have very colorful language to go along with their hangovers.”

“And you sit up here and listen to them suffer?”

“Hell yeah, I do. I was in their shoes a few years ago. I’ve earned my freedom.”

I finish the last few bites of my granola and place the bowl back on the tray. “It must be interesting living here.” I look around for something to put on, but I don’t see my clothes. “Where are my things?”

“I hid them.”

“Why would you hide them?” I try to pull the sheet off the bed, but he has it tucked in at the bottom so tightly it won’t budge. I’m not comfortable enough to get up fully naked to look for them.

He places the tray on the floor and rests against the headboard. “So I can keep you in my bed all day.” He rubs his hands together deviously like he’s cooking up a plan.