CORY TUCKED THE journal between the mattress and box spring, too tired to get up and put it away, snapped off the light and wriggled farther under the covers. She pulled them over her bare arms against the chill in the room and rolled on her side to face the wall. She had no idea whether she had fallen asleep or not, or whether it had been hours or minutes, when a wide shaft of light from the hall played across her face, then narrowed. She flipped onto her back, propping up on her elbows as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. A figure stood inside the doorway. Jess? Not Jess, too big. Her mind struggled to make sense of it. The figure moved toward her bed, knocked against the far edge of it, and grunted. A man’s voice. Bucky!
“Hey, this is my room!” Cory pulled the blankets up to her chin, suddenly aware of her bare breasts under the light t-shirt.
He rounded the corner of the bed and leaned toward her, falling on one hand.
“I found you,” he said playfully and groped in the dark, swinging one arm out like a blind man trying to find her. She scooted toward the wall, but his arm brushed against her. It wrapped around her shoulder and down her arm.
“Get out of my room!” Cory shouted.
He pressed against her, crushing her against the pillow.
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