Campus King | 18+

Chapter Sixty-Two

Hannah

When I woke up the next morning, Tristan was gone, but this time he left a note saying he'd be back again tonight. I think I reread that note a hundred times throughout the day—not just because I missed him, but because I was still trying to wrap my head around us being a couple.

During the day, communication was a challenge with my broken phone so I had no way of talking to him. On the bright side, my mother tolerated Bailey enough to let her call using my mom's phone to talk to me. While Bailey chatted, I typed messages, though I couldn't tell her much, knowing my mom would definitely read them. Bailey understood without needing an explanation and promised to visit soon.

My mother had me drinking gallons of ginger tea. I was starting to hate the taste, but even I had to admit that it helped with the inflammation. Most of the time I was in my room watching something on my laptop, only interrupted when my mother brought more tea. Jace was back at school, so I only saw him in the evenings when he came to bug me. He did that sibling thing where he'd randomly walk into my room, stare at me, hang around, or turn and leave. We even had a couple of movie nights together. Doctor's orders weren't about to turn my home life into a living hell.

Besides that, I was left waiting for Tristan. It was hard to keep the anticipation at bay every night when I counted the minutes until he'd be here. I made sure not to take any of my meds before his visits, wanting to be fully present when I was with him. This time, though, I laid out a notebook and pen, just in case I needed to write something down.

One night, Tristan decided to explore my room — all the while asking me yes-or-no questions about everything. It was fun lying on my side, watching as he examined each item with care. Sometimes his observations shocked me — like when he found my old childhood teddy bear and remarked on how clean and intact it was, nearly perfect. And then he correctly guessed that it was because of my mom, who never let me get any of my toys dirty or broken. My dolls were in the same pristine condition.

He added that his sister's dolls weren't as lucky—all of them had been brutally killed off by the time she was a teenager. Some by decapitation, some because they were too ugly to keep existing and required a Viking funeral. Their parents weren't too happy with them when they they accidentally set the trash bin on fire during one of these send-offs.

It made me feel vulnerable on a level I hadn't before, but I liked it. I loved how curious he was about my life, even the sadder parts. There was a lot to unpack, a lot I hadn't even begun to work through, but I promised myself that I would tell him everything eventually—even the things I'd rather forget or had forgotten.

We had the rest of our lives for that, right?

Inevitably, he'd climb into bed with me, pressing close because it was only a twin bed, but neither of us compained. We usually slept tangled together, one of my legs always thrown over him. That didn't mean I never missed his giant bed, or at the very least, my own. There was just something about a big bed and a man who knew what to do in it.