Dichotomy.

When I wake up, he’s still there next to me. His face is a few inches away from mine, eyes still closed. He’s breathing softly and looks as innocent as I’ve ever seen him.

The truth is, I like him so much better when he’s quiet.

He’s almost…cute, in a way.

Then I realize his arm is draped around my waist and we’re not wearing any clothes.

My immediate instinct is to jump out of bed, get my clothes on, and maybe make some noise so that he’ll wake up and I can ask him what he’s still doing in my room.

The truth is, I ignore my instincts and continue to lie there, thinking it wouldn’t be so bad to stay like this.

His eyes open before I have time to act on my instincts or even just continue to ignore them.

He frowns in confusion before he remembers.

Rewind to when I said I wouldn’t do this…again.

The confusion drains from his face and is replaced by a new expression I’m unsure of. His hand starts stroking the small of my back and I try to ignore the steadily forming goosebumps along my spine.

Unfortunately, I don’t have quite enough will power to push him away after he scoots closer to kiss me. His lips mold to mine as he rolls on top of me. I let him until his hands start to wander and I break it off.

We detach ourselves and I get out of bed to pull on an oversized t-shirt.

“You going to run away again?” he chides me from the bed, recalling the dressing room debacle where we had a close call with Spencer finding out about us.

“I could hardly do that,” I reply, even though my face is turning pink and I’m not even facing him. “This is my room, remember?” He opens his mouth to reply, when I turn back around, but then we’re interrupted again.

“Hey, T.!” “Open up!” a shout follows an abrupt knocking at the door before he can think of a snide remark. I don’t have time to try to read his expression.

“Fuck! Tom!” I hiss under my breath. “Go…” I look around the room frantically as I haphazardly yank on some shorts and tie my hair up.

“There’s nowhere to go!” he reminds me in barely hushed annoyance, pulling on his boxers.

“Bathroom,” I command, and he just looks at me in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he states, gritting his teeth.

“Of course I’m kidding,” I deadpan in response. He glares but obliges as I reach for the doorknob. I open it a crack so that I can see Tom’s face.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“No,” I say, still holding the door mostly closed. “I’m…changing,” I lie. He rolls his eyes.

“T., you know that doesn’t interest me in the slightest.” He starts to push the door farther open.

“Tom, now’s not-”

“What’s that?” he frowns in confusion, glancing over my shoulder as I hear a crash somewhere behind me. I close my eyes.

“Oh,” Tom says, his eyebrows raising almost up to his hairline. Brendon’s standing halfway across the room, shirtless and frozen near the plant he’s knocked over.

I make sure he sees the murderous glare I give him before slamming the door the rest of the way closed.