T H E O G R A Y

I SHOULDN'T EVEN FIND THIS FUNNY. But yet I fucking do.

Sophie, standing there, her face still red from our little confession mishap, is trying to act like she isn't completely thrown off. Like she didn't just ask me to strip for her camera.

"There's no arrangement here," she says firmly, like saying it out loud makes it true.

I shake my head, fighting back a smirk. "It's definitely an arrangement Soph, especially when we both know what you just asked of me seems a little pervy, don't you think?"

She scoffs, eyes narrowing. "Says the guy who just said he wants to sleep with me."

The second she hears it, her whole body tenses-her eyes widen, her jaw clenches.

Oh, shit.

I see the rage mode loading, so I throw my hands up fast. "I meant normal sleep. Nothing else."

She stares at me, like she's trying to decide if she should believe me or throw a punch.

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. "I don't like sleeping alone, okay?"

It's not exactly a lie.

I got used to the silence a long time ago-forced myself to adapt to it. But last night? I actually slept. No tossing, no turning, no staring at the ceiling until exhaustion finally won.

And the only thing different was her.

So, really, it was worth a shot. If it was her, then great. If not... well, I'd just have to go back to the bar and ask the bartender exactly how many drinks I had to knock out that well.

""You know what," I say, exhaling sharply. "Let's sit down and actually talk this through."

My head is pounding, and now that I think about it, I haven't eaten a real meal all day. That might explain the dizziness earlier-maybe even why I hit the ground so hard when Sophie smacked me with her camera.

She doesn't respond, just watches me with those sharp, assessing eyes as I sink onto the couch, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Okay, let's state the facts."

She crosses her arms. "Which are...?"

"I need you, and you need me."

"I don't exactly need you," she counters, the skepticism clear in her voice.

I ignore it. Because this is Sophie. Stubborn to the core.

"Yeah, sure you don't," I say, arching a brow. "But you do. Right?"

Her gaze drops to the floor. I watch as she nervously chews on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth.

Stop staring, you perv.

"I guess I do," she finally sighs, reluctantly accepting where this is going.

Good. That's progress. Because as weird as our requests are, they serve a purpose. Especially mine.

"Why do you need the money, anyway?" I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

She looks up, her expression instantly shifting from hesitant to exasperated. "I just need it."

"For...?"

"Why should I tell you?" She folds her arms tighter, and just like that, the shy, flustered girl from a few seconds ago is gone-replaced by the sharp, sassy version of Sophie.

I kinda miss the other one already.

"Because I told you mine," I point out.

"I didn't ask you to."

"For heaven's sake, Soph-" I drag a hand down my face, wincing when my fingers brush against the wound on my forehead. Right. Still a patient here. Probably should be resting, but instead, I'm dealing with this.

Her expression softens slightly. "Does it still hurt?"

I sigh, letting my head fall back against the couch. "Of course it does. You hit pretty hard, you know."

She doesn't respond, and for a second, I think she's about to leave, probably retreating to her room. But then I hear movement in the kitchen.

I frown. "What are you doing?"

She doesn't answer. Just a few more quiet shuffles. Then, suddenly, she's standing in front of me. I blink up at her as she holds out a glass of water and, in her other hand, two small white pills.

"The nurse said you should take these every eight hours," she explains, her voice softer now. "It'll help with the pain."

"Oh..." I clear my throat, sitting up straighter. "Thanks."

I take the pills from her hand, about to toss them back when she suddenly stops me.

"What?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She hesitates. "I just... um. I was wondering if you've eaten anything."

She glances away as she says it, her hands twisting together like she's way out of her comfort zone right now.

I blink at her, caught a little off guard.

"Can't remember," I admit, then see the way she's looking at me-waiting, expectant, like she knows I'm bullshitting and wants the truth.

I exhale. "Fine. I haven't eaten. Happy?"

I look away, feeling a little stupid about it, but when I glance back at her, I freeze.

She's smiling.

It's small-barely there-but I see it.

And something tightens in my chest.

Because not only is this the first time I've seen Sophie smile when we are alone, but the fact that I made her smile-me.

The realization is almost ridiculous. It makes me feel like some kid who finally got their mom's attention after being ignored all day.

But I don't hate the feeling. Not at all.

I'm still staring at her like an idiot, and she must realize it because the tiny smile vanishes as quickly as it came. She clears her throat and shifts on her feet, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Just... eat something before you take those," she mutters, turning toward the kitchen.

I watch her go, still feeling that stupid warmth in my chest. Who knew all it took to make Sophie smile was admitting I'm basically starving?

I glance at the pills in my palm, then at the glass of water. My stomach grumbles, and I sigh, setting them aside. Guess I should eat first.

There's more noise in the kitchen-cabinet doors opening, something rustling. I hear the sound of a plate hitting the counter, and before I can process what's happening, Sophie comes back with a sandwich.

She shoves it toward me. "Here. Eat."

I blink at it. "How did you make this?"

"From the kitchen?"

I raise an eyebrow. "And you actually made this for me?"

She huffs. "It's a sandwich, Theo. Not a five-course meal."

"But you still made it."

She rolls her eyes. "Just eat it before I take it back."

I smirk, taking a bite. It's simple-turkey and cheese on toast-but damn, it's good. Probably just because I'm starving, but whatever.

Sophie plops down on the couch beside me, pulling her legs up under her. For once, she's quiet. Not arguing, not throwing out snarky comments-just sitting there.

I chew, considering my next words carefully.

"You know," I say after a moment, "you never answered my question."

She frowns. "What question?"

"Why you need the money."

She stiffens, her fingers tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve.

"I told you," she says flatly. "I just need it."

I study her, the way her posture changes-shoulders a little tighter, jaw clenched just enough that I almost miss it.

She doesn't want to tell me.

And for some reason, that irritates me more than it should.

I set the sandwich down, leaning back against the couch. "Fine. Keep your secrets."

She exhales, relieved. But I don't drop it completely.

"Does it have anything to do with your family?" I ask.

"No."

"So then-"

She suddenly smacks her hand on the table, the sound sharp enough to make me jolt.

"Okay, fine. No asking then. Happy?"

"Not yet." She crosses her arms. "I have a few questions about my part of this quote-unquote arrangement."

"Okay, go."

"You said just sleeping. Explain more on that." She practically spits out the word sleeping, like it's some kind of insult.

My throat suddenly feels dry.

I don't blame her for questioning it-hell, I'd be suspicious too. But part of me wonders if she's asking because she genuinely doesn't understand or because she remembers.

Because I sure as hell don't.

"Yes, just sleeping," I say, clearing my throat. "But exactly how we slept yesterday."

She stiffens.

Her lips part slightly, like she wants to say something but thinks better of it. Her fingers twitch against her sleeve, and then-subtle, but there-her ears start turning pink.

I almost smirk. Almost.

Drunk me must have had the time of his life.

"You remember how we slept yesterday?" I press, watching her carefully.

Her shoulders rise a fraction. "You tell me."

I stare at her, my brain scrambling.

I know she was next to me. I know I woke up feeling better than I have in months. But the details? The specifics?

Nothing.

But judging by the way she's acting-like she'd rather be anywhere but here-I must've done something.

"Well," I say slowly, "since you're reacting like that, I'm assuming it was interesting."

Her eyes widen, and she immediately shakes her head. "No! I mean- it wasn't! It was just... sleeping. That's it."

I narrow my eyes, amused. "Then why do you look like you're about to combust?"

She huffs, looking away. "I don't!"

"You do."

Her ears are bright red now, and honestly, it's kind of cute.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. "Sophie."

She tenses.

"If you remember something I don't, you have to tell me. It's only fair."

She swallows, her gaze darting everywhere but me. "There's nothing to tell."

Bullshit.

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying," she insists, but her voice is slightly higher than usual.

I exhale, watching her squirm.

Whatever happened last night, she felt it.

And that realization does something weird to me. Because yeah, I don't remember much, but I felt something too. I woke up with this strange sense of comfort, like I'd finally gotten the kind of sleep I'd been craving for months.

And it was because of her.

I rub a hand down my face.

I should feel bad for dragging her into this. For putting her in a situation where she has to share a bed with me just so I can get a decent night's sleep.

But I don't.

Not when she's looking at me like that.

Like she's remembering something she doesn't want to admit.

And now, more than ever, I want to know exactly what the hell happened last night.

"So, I take the picture, and you get your weird sleeping thing?" Sophie asks, her eyes narrowing at me like she's trying to read my mind.

"Sure," I say with a shrug, taking a huge bite of my sandwich. "But the picture will have to wait until tomorrow morning."

She doesn't like that. I can tell by the way her jaw tightens, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. But she holds it in, her expression twitching with frustration. "Why tomorrow? Why not now?"

"First of all, I'm cold," I lie easily, gesturing lazily at my hoodie. "And secondly, I don't trust you."

Her head jerks back slightly. "What?"

I nod, chewing slowly just to annoy her. "Yeah. For all I know, I could let you take the picture, and you'd turn around and claim you suddenly don't feel well. Then poof-deal's off, and I get nothing."

"I... won't..." she starts, then hesitates. "I mean..."

I smirk, watching her stumble over her words. As much as I find it cute, it also proves my point. "See? Even you don't sound convincing."

She sighs, rolling her eyes. "You can't blame me. This whole thing is weird, okay?"

"Right. And yet, you agreed to it."

She glares. "I didn't exactly have a choice, did I?"

"Sure you did. You could've said no."

Her lips part like she's about to argue, but then she stops. A flicker of realization crosses her face before she quickly looks away, arms crossing over her chest.

Interesting.

"So we're just sleeping, then?" she asks, her voice quieter this time. "And only at night, right?"

"Yes," I confirm, then lean back, watching her closely. "But exactly how we slept last night."

I watch as she shifts awkwardly, her fingers gripping the hem of her hoodie like she's trying to ground herself. Her eyes flicker everywhere but at me, her jaw tight like she's holding something back. And damn it, now I really need to know.

What the hell happened last night?

I barely remember anything. Just the warmth, the way my body relaxed for the first time in months, and-God, her scent. It's like a whisper at the back of my mind, teasing me with something I can't quite grasp. But she remembers. That much is obvious.

And it's messing with her.

Which means I need to know. Now.

"Why do you look like you just remembered something?" I have to ask because the curiosity is killing me.

She blinks rapidly, forcing a scowl. "I don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You definitely do."

I glance at the clock. Seriously? How the hell is it only the afternoon? Why is time crawling like it's mocking me? Can't the sun just set already? Because the sooner it's dark, the sooner we do this, and the sooner I'll figure out exactly what's gotten Sophie all flustered and shy.

I bet she's thinking about it right now, too. Probably replaying every second in her head, which means whatever happened was significant. Interesting enough to leave an impression.

And I hate not knowing.

I exhale sharply, leaning back on the couch. Come on, nightfall. Hurry the hell up.

~~~~

Finally it's night time but there's one problem.

No Sophie.

10:13 PM. The numbers glare at me from my phone screen, yet they mean nothing. Time feels like a joke right now. I'm sitting in my room, laptop open in front of me, but I haven't typed a single damn thing. Haven't even moved the mouse. I'm just staring at the screen, lost in my own thoughts.

Sophie went into her room after our talk and hasn't come out since. No bathroom breaks. No sneaking to the kitchen for a snack. Nothing. It's like she's disappeared.

She's probably still deciding.

Still debating whether she's going to walk into my room tonight or pretend this whole arrangement doesn't exist.

God, I hope she does the first one.

If she's feeling weird about it, then how the hell should I feel? It's been years-or maybe never-since I've actually slept next to a girl without it leading to... other things. But I need to stay strong for both of us.

I exhale slowly, forcing myself to stay still, to stay quiet. My eyes flick to the door for the hundredth time, muscles tensed, ears straining for the sound of her door creaking open. Come on, Sophie.

But nothing.

Maybe she's decided this was a terrible idea. Maybe she couldn't bring herself to go through with it.

Or worse-maybe she found someone else to take the damn picture instead. Maybe she texted one of the guys on the hockey team, and they agreed without hesitation. Hell, she wouldn't even need to ask twice. With that pretty face of hers, she could have them wrapped around her little finger without even realizing it.

Let's face it-Sophie is gorgeous. And I doubt any guy would be dumb enough to regret doing something for her.

The thought makes my jaw clench.

The suspense is killing me. I can't sit here anymore, waiting like some desperate idiot.

I push the blankets off and climb out of bed, glancing at the fresh pillowcases and mattress I swapped out earlier-just to make sure everything was set for tonight.

Running a hand through my damp hair, I walk toward the door, the water trailing down my bare chest. The air is cold against my skin, but I don't bother grabbing a hoodie.

Because if Sophie does come out, I want to see her reaction.

Just for fun.

I step out of my room, the apartment eerily quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the building settling. Her door is still closed, standing there like some kind of barrier between me and the answer I'm dying to know.

Is she coming, or not?

I take a slow breath, rolling my shoulders, trying to act casual even though my pulse is picking up speed. The last thing I want is to look desperate, but hell, maybe I am a little desperate.

Not for anything weird-just for answers.

And maybe to see that look on her face again. The one she made earlier when I reminded her how we slept last night. The way she tensed up, her eyes widening, ears turning red like she had definitely remembered something I didn't.

That reaction has been haunting me.

How the hell did we sleep? Was I all over her? Did she wake up tangled in me? And if she did, why didn't I wake up first? I'm a light sleeper. It takes almost nothing to wake me up, but I must have been so out of it last night that I didn't even realize I was holding her.

And she hasn't brought it up, which only makes me want to know more.

I take a step toward her door, still debating how to go about this. I could knock, but that would make it obvious I've been waiting. I could pretend I just needed something-maybe ask if she stole one of my hoodies even if I know it's impossible for her to take anything that belongs to me.

Or I could just-

Her door clicks open.

I freeze.

And there she is.

Sophie steps out, hesitating in the doorway. She's in a white nightgown-one that stops above her knee and I know I shouldn't be looking on how it suits every curve of hers but-

Jesus. It does so well.

She shifts on her feet, eyes flicking up to meet mine before darting away, like she's rethinking this whole thing all over again.

I arch a brow. "Took you long enough."

She glares at me, arms crossing. "Shut up." she walks past me and heads to my room but before she opens it she turns to me and arches a brow.

"You coming or what?"

And just like that, I know she's in.