Free Linger by Maggie Stiefvater

cold.”
    â€œNo, you’re hot,” she corrected. “So what’s going on here? Are you guys like — sleeping together?”
    I felt my cheeks flush despite myself. “Not like that. Just like …”
    Rachel didn’t wait for me to figure out how to finish my thought. “Holy freakin’ holy freakin’ holy … I can’t even think of what to say to that, Grace! Just like what ? What do you guys do ? No, wait, don’t tell me!”
    â€œShhh,” I said again, even though she wasn’t being that loud. “Just sleep. That’s it. Yeah, I know it sounds weird, but, I just …” I struggled for words to explain it. It wasn’t all about almost losing Sam and wanting to keep him near. It wasn’t all about lust. It was about falling asleep with Sam’s chest pressed against my back so I could feel his heart slow to match mine. It was about growing up and realizing that the feeling of his arms around me, the smell of him when he was sleeping, the sound of his breathing — that was home and everything I wanted at the end of the day. It wasn’t the same as being with him when we were awake. But I didn’t know how to say that to Rachel. I wondered why I’d wanted to tell her. “I don’t know if I can explain it. Sleeping feels different when he’s there.”
    â€œI’ll sure bet it does,” Rachel said, her eyes wide.
    â€œRachel,” I said.
    â€œSorry, sorry. I’m trying to be reasonable here, but my best friend just told me that she’s been spending every night with her boyfriend without her parents knowing it. So he’s sneaking back in here? You’ve corrupted The Boy!”
    â€œDo you think I’m doing the wrong thing?” I asked, wincing a little, because I thought maybe I had corrupted Sam.
    Rachel considered. “I think it’s awfully romantic.”
    I laughed, a little shakily, with something like giddiness and relief. “Rachel, I’m so in love with him.” But it didn’t sound real when I said it. It sounded corny, like a commercial, because I couldn’t quite invest my voice with the truth and depth of how I felt. “Swear not to tell?”
    â€œYour secret is safe with me. Far be it from me to break up the young lovers. God! I can’t believe you really are young lovers.”
    My heart was thumping with the confession, but it felt good, too — one less secret I was keeping from Rachel. By the time her mom arrived a few minutes later, we were both fairly giddy. Maybe it was time to tell her some of the other secrets, too.
    â€¢ SAM •
    It was eighteen degrees outside. In the bright light of the moon, a flat, pale disc behind a tangle of leafless branches, I folded my bare arms tightly across my chest and stared at my socks, waiting for Grace’s mother to vacate the kitchen. I softly cursed icy Minnesota springtimes, but the words swirled away in puffs of white in the darkness. It was strange to be standing in this cold, shaking with it, unable to feel my fingers or toes, my eyes burning with it, and to be no closer to being a wolf than I had been before.
    Through the cracked sliding-glass door on the deck, Grace’s voice was just audible; she was talking with her mother about me. Her mother wondered gently if I would be coming over tomorrow night as well. Grace mused vaguely back that I probably would be, as that’s what boyfriends did. Her mother commented to no one in particular that some people might think that we were moving too fast. Grace asked her mother if she wanted any more chicken parmesan before she put it away in the fridge. I could hear the impatience in her voice, but her mother seemed oblivious, effectively holding me prisoner outside by her presence in the kitchen. Standing on the frigid wood of the deck in my jeans and thin Beatles T-shirt, I contemplated the possible wisdom of marrying Grace and living