I avert my gaze back to the bed. “They’ll probably think we had swing-from-the-rafters sex on it.” The sudden additional awkwardness is as uncomfortable as an itchy wool blanket. I can feel Chase’s eyes on me. “Why the hell would we have swing-from-the-rafters sex on a shitty pullout couch when there’s an enormous, probably super comfortable king bed right there?” He thumbs over his shoulder. I keep my eyes fixed on the broken sofa bed. “So no one would have to sleep in the wet spot.” Why can’t I just keep my stupid mouth shut? “That’s actually a good point.”
