I hear the person at the door take a step into the room. “Travis?” she asks, as if testing to see if he is awake. I bite my lip, recognizing Sister Tabitha's voice. Travis doesn't move, doesn't react.

Finally, the door closes with a click, the bolt of the lock sliding into place, the sound muffled by the covers. We wait. Travis pulls the sheets down, crisp clean air flowing back into my lungs, but I do not move from my position.

The walls are thin up in this hallway and we hear people begin to move around in the room next door. There is a scrape of furniture on the floor and then someone hisses, as if to make the noise stop.

Travis and I stare into each other's eyes. All we can hear is mumbling, the cadence of voices rising and falling, over lapping and rapid. “Do you think someone is hurt like you were?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I would think we'd be able to hear them if they were in pain.” I shrug. Maybe they fainted.

“Why would they lock me in if it was just someone hurt?” he breathes.

Turning my head back, I place my ear against the wall. I hear a sudden and sharp rebuke, uttered in harsh tones— “No, we will not tell them until the time is right. You keep your mouth shut about this”—and then whoever was speaking must have moved away from the other side of the wall and the voices fall back to murmurs.

While I'm puzzling over what's going on, I suddenly realize that I am lying in bed with Travis, my body squeezed between him and the wall, our combined warmth enveloping us both. His breath shifts ever so slightly, heavier now, laced with longing, as if he has realized the same thing.

Every inch of my skin is instantly awake, the hairs on my body searching for movement, as if they are antennae. Travis is lying on his back and my back is against the wall so that I am facing him.

My hand has been resting on his chest and something inside me urges me to press my fingers against his skin, to press my body against his. My breath comes out shaking. Everything, all of this, is almost too much to bear.

“I should probably leave in case they come to check on you again,” I say, and he swallows and nods his head. I can hear the way the air enters and leaves his lungs, as if it is an effort for him to breathe.

I begin to slide back across his body. Before I hadn't paid attention because of the adrenaline, the fear of getting caught. But this time everything inside me understands what is going on here in this bed. Mindful of his healing thigh, I slip one leg over his hips, leveraging myself against the wall until I am kneeling, hovering over him with a leg on either side of him.