Page 47 of Unforgettable Player

He lets out a big sigh before glancing around at the lonely kitchen. “What if I crash here, as a friend?”

“A friend?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Where would you sleep? We don’t have a spare bedroom.”

He nods to the living room behind me. “I could sleep on the couch.”

I look at the couch that probably needs a good vacuum. Or an exorcism. “You can’t sleep on that, it’s all lumpy.”

“Okay.” He shrugs. “So I’ll sleep in your room, with you.”

I give him a look, I hope it conveys why that is out of the question.

“Why not? I can crash in your bed … as a friend.”

“When was the last time you slept in a bed with someone ‘as friends?’”

He shrugs. “I did it all the time in college.”

“All the time?”

“Yeah. I’ve crashed in my teammates’ beds before—platonically.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Sober?”

His crooked smile kills me. He rubs the back of his neck. “Eli, seriously, if you don’t want me in your bed, I’m fine out here.”

I groan internally. Of course I want him in my bed. There’s no place I want him more. But this isn’t a case of want.

I should just tell him to go home. It’s the sensible thing … the right thing. Scout would lose her shit if she even found out he was here right now. If she found out we shared a bed? It’s not even worth thinking about. But … I can’t stand the thought of him leaving me here alone.

“Okay,” I agree. “You can crash in my bed … as friends.”

The way he smiles has me asking myself what kind of idiot I really am.

We hear my dad leave his study around 10pm while we’re watching TV in the living room. My stomach flips. Will he come in here? What will he say when he sees that Connor is still here? I almost want him to chew me out about having a guy sleep over without asking him. At least it would show that he cares.

I wait, listening, holding my breath. But all I hear is the bathroom door opening and closing, then nothing for a while.

I deflate, forgetting I’m not alone until Connor squeezes my shoulder. “Hey, okay?”

“Yeah.”

About ten minutes later, I hear the toilet flush and the door opening and closing. I don’t know whether it was the door to the study or Dad’s bedroom, but it doesn’t matter. He didn’t come out here. He’s still hiding away.

“Wanna go to bed?”

I’m in a bit of a daze as I nod and follow Connor to the bedroom. It’s only once we’re in there and he’s brushing his teeth in my bathroom that the realization hits me—Connor Ryan is about to sleep in my bed. My heart pounds. What if he finds the photo I stole of him in his swimming trunks? Surely he’ll think I’m a total weirdo and call me out? But he won’t go snooping. I know him and he wouldn’t do that.

He comes out of the bathroom, still in the t-shirt and shorts he’s been wearing all day.

“I don’t think I’ve got anything that’ll fit you.”