Hidden Gems by Carrie Alexander

cold.”
    She glanced at the sofa bed, the extra blankets he’d gathered. “I’m sure you’ll keep me warm.”
    “You know what you’re doing to me, right?”
    Her lips pursed into a tight smile. “Of course.”
    He sighed heavily. “But I’m not supposed to start anything.”
    Or was he?
    She returned her towel to the bathroom, switching off the light before coming back. The apartment turned a dense black. He waited for his eyes to adjust, picking out Marissa’s slender form standing beside the bed.
    “Thus far,” she said, “you’ve exhibited formidable control.”
    “Ah, so this is payback.”
    “Would I be that devious?”
    “Hell, yes.”
    She laughed, agreeing. “Sorry. I’m fresh out of flannel pajamas.”
    “No problem.” He got up and flicked on a bedside lamp. “Hope you don’t mind if I strip down. I put out extra blankets for you, but they’ll make me hot if I wear too much to bed.” He stripped off the top of the pajamas he’d put on for purposes of modesty and protection, leaving only the bottoms, the drawstring tied loosely so they hung low on his hips. He stretched, flexing his chest muscles, then worked his shoulders back and forth.
    Marissa pretended to fluff pillows, but she was watching.
    He rubbed below his navel. “Right or left?”
    “Huh?”
    He rested his hands on his hips. “Do you sleep on the right side or the left?”
    “Oh, right, I suppose.” She dragged her eyes up from the tent puffing out below his waistband. “Actually, I sleep all over. I’m restless. This bed is small. I might end up sprawled on top of you.”
    “I’ve slept under worse conditions.”
    Her eyes narrowed, but she got into bed without further comment. She stretched out flat, balancing near the right edge. The blankets were spread neatly over her, pulled up to her chest. She kept her hands outside them, folded atop her rib cage.
    She closed her eyes. Smiled serenely. “Thank you for coming to my rescue. Good night.”
    That was it? Arrgh.
    Moving like an old man, he lowered himself to the bed. With careful positioning, he was able to avoid touching her. The sofa bed’s springs squeaked and groaned, the edge of the thin mattress curling inward as if it wanted to throw them together. He tensed up and clung to his perch.
    Platitudes filled his brain.
    Steady on.
    Take it easy.
    Don’t rush.
    But his usual mantra wasn’t working.
    He remembered how he’d saved for his first guitar when he was fourteen, a limited-edition Gibson acoustic that he’d spotted in a music shop. Too young for a regular job, he’d earned the money by lawn mowing, snow shoveling, dog walking. A year it had taken him. Flashy electric guitars had come and gone through the store, but the Gibson had waited for him, its honey-colored wood sweetly curved and polished.
    And when he’d finally had the money—or most of it; he’d gone to the shop with the intention of setting up a payment plan for the remainder—the guitar was no longer there. It had been sold only days before.
    Eventually he’d bought a similar guitar. A newer, better one, the shop owner had said.
    But it wasn’t the same. He’d coveted that Gibson. And remembered, even now, the pleasure of the one time he’d played her, hair falling in his face, fumbling fingers in the corner of the shop, strumming a simple song.
    So he knew from experience that once wasn’t enough.
    Yet it was better than nothing.
    Better than waiting too long and losing his chance because he’d dreamed too big.

    “JAMIE, are you sleeping?”
    His voice came out of the dark. “No.”
    Marissa smiled to herself. He’d answered so fast that she knew he’d been waiting for her to give him a sign. But on top of everything else she’d been thinking about his off-base suspicions of Shandi and he deserved to suffer, just a little. Shandi was selfish and a mooch, but she wasn’t a thief.
    “Me, neither. I’m stifling under all these blankets.” Marissa flung off two layers.