Chapter 92: My Room, Our Room

NORA’S POV

My boots barely touched the linoleum steps as I practically floated up the stairwell to the third floor. I reached up with trembling fingers, lightly pressing my fingertips against my lips.

They were still swollen, warm, and tingling with the heat of Knox’s kiss against the brick entryway outside.

Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel the weight of his leather jacket wrapped around my sides, his large hands cupping my jaw, and the low, intoxicating rasp of his voice against my mouth as he asked: How about now, Bookworm?

A giddy, breathless laugh escaped my chest as I walked down the quiet hallway, clutching the white ribbon-tied bakery box against my coat.

I reached Room 304, pulled my keys from my pocket, and slid the brass key into the lock.

I pushed the wooden door open with a soft smile. "Priya, you are not going to believe what happened..."

The words died instantly in my throat.

My entire body went rigid in the doorway.

Sitting in the center of our small common area on the shared futon were two people tangled together in a frantic, breathless embrace.

Priya was straddling the lap of a tall, sandy-haired guy wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a severely rumpled white button-down shirt.

Her hands were tangled in his hair, his hands were firmly planted on her hips, and both of their faces were flushed red.

The sound of my voice hit the room like a detonated flashbang.

The guy gasped, flailing backward in pure terror. He tried to scramble off the futon, lost his balance completely, and tumbled sideways onto our rug with a muffled THUD, dragging a decorative throw pillow down with him.

Priya squeaked, frantically smoothing down her emerald silk robe and clutching the collar tight against her throat.

"Holy shit!" the guy wheezed from the floor, scrambling frantically on his hands and knees to locate his brown leather dress shoes. "I am so sorry! I thought... she said..."

"Devon, breathe," Priya hissed under her breath, her face burning nearly as bright as mine.

The guy, Devon, who I vaguely recognized as a second-year law student from the moot court team, shoved his socked feet halfway into his loafers, grabbed his bag from the study desk, and shot upright like a panicked deer.

He didn’t even dare to look me in the eye.

"Goodnight, Priya! Nice seeing you, Nora! Great weather we’re having!" Devon blurted out in a single breath before darting past me through the open doorway and sprinting down the hallway like the building was on fire.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving total silence in Room 304.

I stood by the doorway with my jaw hanging open, blinking in utter shock.

Priya remained frozen on the futon for three agonizing seconds, staring at the empty doorframe.

Then, she slowly turned her head toward me, her dark eyes narrowing as she immediately went on the offensive.

"Nora!" Priya yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "What the hell are you doing back here at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?!"

I stared at her, completely incredulous. "What am I doing back here?! This is my room! OUR room."

"I thought you were spending the night at the SinBin!" Priya cried out, crossing her arms defensively. "You went out on a date with Knox Sheridan! Six-foot-three, built like a Greek god, varsity hockey captain! What self-respecting college girl comes back to her dorm at nine-forty-five after a date with Knox Sheridan?!"

"First of all, Patel," I fired back, tossing my bag onto the study desk with a sharp laugh, "it was our first real date! Normal people don’t move into a guy’s house on date number one! And second of all... why didn’t you go to his place if you wanted privacy?!"

Priya let out an exaggerated groan, leaning her head back against the futon cushion.

"Because I assumed you were going to get boinked. Plus, his off-campus apartment smells like sour protein shakes, Axe body spray, and broken dreams!" Priya complained dramatically. "Our room has eucalyptus diffusers, fairy lights, and six-hundred-thread-count sheets! I had an operational window, Bennett! A window!"

"An operational window?" I repeated, fighting the bright, uncontrollable smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "Devon? The mock trial champion?"

"He has great debate stamina and fantastic hands, okay? Don’t judge me!" Priya huffed, but the indignant facade finally cracked, and a wide, helpless grin spread across her face.

She looked me up and down, her eyes landing on my flushed cheeks, my tousled curls, and finally, the white bakery box sitting on the desk.

Priya’s jaw dropped.

"Wait," Priya gasped, leaping up from the futon in a flash of emerald silk. She snatched the white box, reading the gold embossed script on the lid. "Pasticceria Luigi?! Are these the almond biscotti from the harbor?!"

"He remembered," I said softly, taking off my coat and hanging it on the hook.

Priya looked up from the box, her expression instantly shifting from dramatic roommate chaos into pure, wide-eyed wonder.

"He drove all the way downtown to replace the ones he threw away in Oakhaven?" Priya whispered, clutching the box to her chest.

"Fresh from the oven this afternoon," I smiled, walking over to the futon and sitting down. "He had them sitting on the passenger seat when he picked me up."

Priya practically dove onto the futon beside me, carefully untying the gold satin ribbon and opening the box.

There were two golden-brown, almond-studded biscotti left inside.

Priya took one, breaking it in half and handing a piece to me. "Spill every single detail right now, or I’m calling Knox’s phone and asking him myself."

I took a bite of the crunchy almond pastry, letting out a soft sigh as the warmth of the evening washed over me all over again.

"He took me to The Anchor & Pine," I said, my voice dropping into a quiet, dreamy murmur. "We had a secluded corner booth by the water. No PR. No fans. No cameras. We shared seafood linguine and garlic sourdough, and we just... talked."

"About what?"

"About his childhood," I said softly. "Before... everything. He told me about playing pond hockey with his grandfather behind a farmhouse in Vermont. How much he genuinely loved the game when it was just the two of them and the wooden boards."

Priya stared at me, her usual sharp, cynical defense completely melting away into soft, genuine affection.

"He’s never told anyone that, Nora," Priya murmured. "Not even in the sports features."

"I know," I whispered, my heart aching with sweet, overwhelming tenderness. "He said when he’s with me... it feels like that frozen pond again. It feels real."

"Oh, god," Priya groaned, clutching her heart and collapsing sideways onto my shoulder. "He is completely, irreversibly, desperately down bad for you. And what about when he brought you back?"

My face instantly reached volcanic temperatures.

"He walked me to the front entrance," I mumbled into my half of the biscotti.

"And?!"

"And he asked if I would go on a second date with him."

Priya gasped, shaking my arm. "And?!"

"I told him I’d think about it," I teased, biting my lip.

"Nora Bennett, you did not!"

"I did," I laughed softly, feeling the phantom heat of his mouth burning against mine. "So he pinned me against the brick archway outside, wrapped his leather jacket around me, and kissed me until my brain stopped functioning."

Priya shrieked into a throw pillow, kicking her bare feet against the futon cushions. "I knew it! I knew the hockey captain was a romantic menace!"

Before I could reply, my phone vibrated sharply against the wooden nightstand.

BZZZZ.

Priya froze. I froze.

We both looked down at the glowing screen.

A text notification from Knox Sheridan lit up the display:

Knox: Still thinking about that kiss against the bricks. Second date is tomorrow at six-thirty. My place. I’m cooking for you, Bennett. Don’t be late.

Priya looked at the text, then slowly looked up at me with an eyebrow arched so high it nearly vanished into her hairline.

"He’s cooking for you," Priya whispered, her lips curling into a wicked, triumphant smirk. "At the SinBin. On a Sunday night."

My pulse hammered wildly against my ribs as I stared at Knox’s message, my thumb trembling slightly over the glass.

"He’s cooking for me," I breathed, my cheeks burning with sweet, intoxicating fire.