Chapter Sixteen: Bedrooms and Awkwardness
RILEY'S POV
Halfway through dinner, my knee accidentally brushed his under the table.
I pulled back immediately—but the table was narrow, and the movement only made things worse. My leg grazed his again.
This time, he noticed.
His fork slowed, though his eyes stayed on his plate. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smirk. I shifted again, trying to find a safe position, but my foot somehow tangled briefly with his.
"Seriously?" he murmured, low enough that only I could hear.
I shot him a glare, opening my mouth to defend myself, when Max's voice cut through the moment.
"So," he said, leaning back in his chair with a grin, "I hope everyone's happy with their rooms. We did have to double up, but… I'm sure some people don't mind."
Connor snorted. Harleen lifted a brow at me, clearly enjoying this. Amber kicked her under the table to shut her up.
Xander finally looked at me, his expression unreadable.
"Don't overthink it, Rachel," he said flatly.
"It's just a bed."
The problem under the table?
Still there.
Neither of us moved.
By the time dinner ended, I couldn't even remember what I'd eaten. My mind kept replaying the way he'd said it's just a bed—like it meant absolutely nothing.
And somehow, that made it mean everything.
Max clapped his hands once. "Alright, people. Go claim your spots before someone steals your pillow."
The house burst into movement—voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, laughter bouncing off the walls. I followed Harleen and Amber upstairs, but somewhere between the landing and the hallway, Xander ended up right behind me.
He didn't rush. Didn't lag.
I could just… feel him there.
When we reached the room, I paused, my hand hovering over the door handle. Then I exhaled quietly and pushed it open.
One queen-sized bed.
No couch.
Not even a chair.
I froze. "Oh."
Xander stepped in behind me, his gaze sweeping the room before landing briefly on me. "What?" he asked, like he didn't already see the issue.
"Nothing," I muttered, dropping my bag a little harder than necessary.
He glanced around once more, then back at me. "Rachel, it's not a crime scene. Don't overthink it."
I shot him a look, but he'd already moved past me, tossing himself onto the far side of the bed like this was completely normal.
Still, the slight tightening of his jaw told me he wasn't as unfazed as he wanted me to believe.
We barely spoke after that.
I unpacked a few things into the dresser, shoved the rest into a corner, and avoided looking at him. Xander sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone like the night had already ended.
When I finally lay down on my side, he shifted too. We turned our backs to each other, an unspoken agreement to keep space.
Silence settled in.
Sleep followed.
The Next Morning
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, pulling me from sleep. I blinked against the brightness—and immediately realized something was different.
Xander was facing me.
Close enough that I could see the way his hair had fallen messily across his forehead, the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. My eyes lingered longer than they should have, like my brain hadn't caught up with the fact that I was staring.
Then I jolted slightly and scooted back, putting space between us.
"Morning," I said softly, my voice quieter than usual—like I wasn't sure I should be speaking at all.
His eyes opened slowly, still hazy with sleep. He looked at me for a moment before replying, "Morning."
I turned away immediately, pretending to focus on my bag, my ears burning.
XANDER'S POV
I felt the sunlight before I opened my eyes—warm against my face.
Something else was warm too.
Close.
It didn't take long to figure out it was Rachel. She was facing me. I could feel it.
I kept my eyes shut, just long enough to listen to her breathing. Steady—but different. Awake. There was a pause, the kind that settles heavy in your chest, and I knew she was looking at me.
Then the bed shifted.
She pulled back.
"Morning," she said quietly.
I opened my eyes and met hers. "Morning."
She turned away almost instantly, busying herself with her bag. I stayed where I was, pretending I was calm—pretending I hadn't noticed how close she'd been just seconds ago.
Or wondered how long she'd been staring.
RILEY'S POV
By the time everyone had changed and grabbed towels, the house was buzzing. Max was shouting something about the pool filter being "Olympic-grade," while Harleen and Amber argued over sun chairs.
I stayed in the room a little longer, pretending to check my phone.
Really, I was stalling.
When I finally stepped out, I stuck to my plan—the gray Calvin Klein bikini top and denim shorts. Simple. Safe. Harleen could pull off strappy swimsuits meant for magazine covers, and Amber looked like she belonged on a beach.
Me?
I didn't want to give anyone more to look at than necessary.
I kept my eyes forward as I walked into the living room, even though I could feel glances flick my way. My hands itched to tug at my shorts, but I shoved them into my pockets instead.
Everyone was loud and distracted, so no one said anything—
Except I felt someone fall into step beside me as we headed for the sliding doors.
XANDER'S POV
I wasn't paying attention when people started coming out of their rooms.
Not until she walked in.
Rachel.
She didn't look around. Just walked straight ahead like she was trying to make herself smaller.
It didn't work.
I told myself to look away—to focus on Max, on Ben, on literally anything else. Easy distractions. But my eyes kept drifting back to her like gravity.
She passed the couch, hands shoved into her pockets, shoulders slightly tense.
Like she wanted to be invisible.
And somehow, that only made her stand out more.