"Goodnight," I tell him, watching as he disappears into his room, shutting the door behind him. It's hard not to remember being on the other side of that door, hard to forget how terrified I'd been at the time, but comforted, too.

Hard to forget that one night we'd spent under the covers, the night I realized just how much I cared about him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

As promised, I clean off my plate and finish my water, careful to work as quietly as possible. The guest room is all made up, just as he'd said and slip out of my jeans and socks, folding both and resting them atop the foot of the bed before sliding between the covers. The sheets, thankfully, don't really smell like him, and the mattress is comfortable. I curl up tight as I can and close my eyes and hope, hope, hope I can fall asleep quickly.