“What are you doing here?” He didn’t answer my whispered question. He set down the duffle and sleeping bag, shoved the keys into the pocket of his jacket, and began to climb. I watched him coming at me, my hand tightening on the railing to hold my ground, eyes never shifting away from his. “Graham, I asked what you—” “Sleeping here,” he informed me, coming to a stop on the step below mine. With our natural height difference, this put us almost perfectly at eye level. “What?” I breathed. “You can’t sleep at my place. So, I’ll sleep here.” “Here?” “There are about a dozen empty rooms to choose
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