When I open the door, he’s standing there, the hallway light outlining his shoulder. His laptop tucked under one arm. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his hands through it out of frustration.
“Sorry I woke you up,” he says quietly. “I need to get some work done. Everywhere seems… occupied, noisy.”
As if on cue, a loud burst of laughter echoes from down the hallway. I wince. He lifts a brow and enters his room.
“You said we’re not allowed to work all through our stay here,” I remind him, squinting at him sleepily as I sit on the bed.
“I made the rules,” he replies. “I can bend them if I choose to.”
He shrugs off his jacket, leaving a striped long-sleeve stretched across his very obvious gym-built torso. He sits at the desk, opens his laptop, types a few keys, and then
