Hey there, fellow connoisseur of fictional sleeping arrangements,
So last night I found myself explaining to Mr. Mav why I was googling "small cabin floor plans" and "studio apartment bed configurations" at 11 PM.
His response? "Are we moving? Because I just fixed the garage door."
No, sweet summer child.
I'm researching the sacred art of the "only one bed" trope, and apparently my search history now looks like I'm either house hunting or planning some very specific kidnapping scenario. 🛏️
(For the record, it's neither. It's research. Very important, totally legitimate research.)
Which brings me to today's burning question:
Why are we all absolutely obsessed with forcing two people who definitely shouldn't be sharing a mattress... to share a mattress?
The Psychology of Proximity (Or: Why We're All Secretly Furniture Voyeurs)
Here's the thing about "only one bed" - it's not really about the bed at all. It's about stripping away every escape route, every excuse, every carefully constructed wall between two people who are desperately trying not to want each other.
Think about it.
In real life, we have a million ways to avoid uncomfortable situations. We can go home, check our phones, claim we have early meetings. But when there's only one bed? Suddenly you're stuck in the most intimate, vulnerable setting possible with nowhere to run.
It's forced vulnerability in silk pajamas (or let's be honest, in whatever random t-shirt you grabbed).
The genius is in the slow burn torture of it all.
The hyperawareness of every breath, every accidental touch, every moment when someone rolls over in their sleep. It's intimacy without permission, desire without action, and tension so thick you could cut it with those tiny hotel pillows.
Why This Trope Rules Our Hearts (And My Current WIP)
Which is exactly why I've been torturing Sean "Striker" James and Jade in CHORD OF WAR & LOVE with this delicious setup.
These two stubborn souls get hit with the perfect storm of romance tropes: forced proximity ✓, enemies to lovers ✓, he falls first ✓, and yes... only one bed ✓.
Sean's been living in my head for months now, whispering things like "Right here. On this kitchen counter..." at the most inappropriate times. (Like during grocery shopping. Very awkward in the produce section.)
If you haven't one-clicked your way to this mess of tattooed military alpha meets stubborn artist yet, CHORD OF WAR & LOVE is available for preorder and I promise it's worth every sleepless night it'll give you.
Don't believe me? Here's a wee little teaser:
"Still trying to run, Rockstar?" I asked, my voice dropping to that low tone that I knew made her shiver. "You know you want this as much as I do. Stop pretending last time didn't fucking happen."
Her response was immediate and defensive: "Get over yourself, Sailor Boy."
The words were tough, but the way she swayed toward me told a different story. The unconscious movement all but screamed she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
"What are you so afraid of?" I stepped closer, forcing her back against the counter. Heat radiated from her body, her scent—coffee, jasmine, something uniquely Jade—filling my senses.
Fuck, she smelled so damn good.
"I'm not afraid of anything," she insisted, but her body betrayed her—pupils blown wide, pulse hammering at her throat, a flush spreading across her cheeks.
"Liar." Before she could retreat, before she could throw up another fucking wall between us, I moved, planting my hands on the counter on either side of her, caging her in. The counter hit her at mid-ass, and in one fluid motion, I gripped her waist and lifted her onto it. Her eyes widened in surprise, coffee sloshing in her mug. I took it from her hands, setting it aside without breaking eye contact.
"What are you doing?" she gasped, her hands coming to my shoulders, not pushing me away but not pulling me closer either.
"What I've wanted to do for three fucking days." I stepped between her legs, forcing them apart to accommodate my hips. The position put her face almost level with mine, her legs dangling on either side of my waist. "What we both want."
Her breath came in quick, shallow pants, her eyes dark with a mixture of desire and panic. "Sean, we can't—"
"Can't what?" I slid my hands up her thighs, feeling the heat of her through the denim. "Can't be honest about what's happening here? Can't admit that you think about that night as much as I do?"
"This is crazy," she whispered, but her thighs tightened around my hips, at odds with her words.
"Crazy is pretending there's nothing between us." I brought one hand up to her face, tracing my thumb along her lower lip. "Crazy is lying in my bed every night, surrounded by my scent, and acting like you don't remember how good we were together."
Her lips parted under my thumb, her breath hot against my skin. "I remember," she admitted, so quietly I almost didn't hear it.
Preorder it now!
Speaking of Sleepless Nights...
While Sean and Jade are busy setting my imagination on fire, don't sleep on Max and Lily's completed story in GRUMPFEST!
Their grumpy-sunshine hockey romance is live and ready to ruin your productivity.
And for those keeping track, Jack "Hotshot" Henderson (Book 2 of Puck & Play) is also on preorder, because apparently I enjoy giving readers multiple ways to avoid real-world responsibilities.
On a more vulnerable note, I've been exploring some heavier territory over on Substack lately. This week's post digs into the messy reality behind the romance:
My brain has a whole department dedicated to creating alternative facts about my life, and honestly, they deserve a raise for their creativity.
If you're in the mood for less snark and more soul-searching, come find me there.
Your Turn, Bed-Sharing Enthusiasts
Now I need to know: What's your favorite "only one bed" moment from any romance you've read?
Was it the awkward negotiation of sleeping arrangements?
The middle-of-the-night vulnerability?
The morning-after pretending-nothing-happened dance?
Drop a reply and tell me - I need to know I'm not alone in my obsession with fictional furniture logistics.
Yours in strategic sleeping arrangements,
