Chapter 4I woke to the scent of coffee the next day. Tate was barely awake, but I kissed him briefly on the forehead before I gathered my PJ pants. I was wearing underwear, as we’d all gotten dressed and cleaned up after our night before. But when Tate and I turned to our bedroom at the end of our apartment hallway, Matthew had stayed on the couch. We hadn’t spoken about it beyond the request to stay the night; where we were sleeping became an obvious arrangement. With Tate’s nearly six-foot-four status, the bed was already cramped enough—and hot enough—with me and only me inside of it. Even if Matthew and I were both slender and slight, five ten at most, it would be too tight a fit.
When I saw him in the kitchen, newly showered but still wearing the same clothing as the night before, my
