Sunlight splashes across my face, its warmth wrapping around me like a hug. The rich scent of coffee curls through the air, slipping beneath the haze of sleep and tugging me toward consciousness. I shift, the unfamiliar texture beneath me stirring a sliver of unease. My bed isn’t this firm. My sheets don’t smell like this. Clean, crisp, and edged with something undeniably… masculine.
My eyes snap open. Beige walls. A flat-screen TV. A white couch.
Not my room. Not my house.
A jolt of awareness shoots through me, and suddenly, last night isn’t so hazy anymore. Images flicker behind my eyes, fragmented and vivid. Stumbling down the road. His headlights cutting through the dark. The way his hands felt, strong and steady, as he lifted me off my feet. The shift of muscle beneath my cheek as I curled into him.
Oh. My. God.
I slept here. He brought me here.
I bolt upright, my heart hammering against my ribs. My dress is wrinkled but still in place, my body cocooned in a redblanket I don’t remember grabbing. He must’ve put it over me. The thought makes my heart stutter in my chest, an inconvenient little pang at the idea of him, my bar guy turned teacher, taking care of me.
Panic surges next, sending my hands scrambling for my phone. Parents. Missed calls. Shit. If they…
My gaze snags on my phone across the room, plugged in neatly under the TV. Another little kindness. Another thing that makes my stomach twist. I lurch for it, unlocking the screen. No missed calls from my parents. Thank god. But…
Ten missed calls.
A flood of texts from Sal.
Sal:Where are you?
Sal:What the fuck, girl? Did you leave?
Sal:Okay, I’m worried. PICK UP YOUR PHONE.
Sal:I’m really freaking out now. Jeff said someone saw you stumble off down the road.
Sal:Don’t make me call your parents.
A fresh wave of dread washes over me. I fire off a quick reply before she follows through on that last threat.
Sophie:I’m okay! I’ll explain later, promise.
My phone vibrates instantly.
Sal:OMG, I was about to start a search party. Did you go home?!
My fingers hover over the screen. The truth sits heavy on my chest, but I know how this will go if I tell her. She’ll press and dig, wanting details. And I… I don’t even know what to make of this myself.
Sophie:Yes.
The lie makes my stomach turn, but I let it lie. I need space to process.
Pocketing my phone, I scan the room, searching for an exit. No front door in sight. If I move quietly, maybe I can slip out before I have to…
Too late.
Movement catches my eye, and I freeze. He’s standing in the doorway, watching me.
And fuck. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt, his hair a tousled mess, his jaw shadowed with the remnants of sleep. The kind of look that shouldn’t be this attractive but absolutely is. There’s an edge of exhaustion to him, shadows under his eyes that weren’t there before. Because of me.
Great.
I lift my hands, running my fingers through my hair and wincing. God, I probably look like hell. Movies always make waking up seem effortless, but in reality, morning-after hair is more rat’s nest than romantic. Meanwhile, he… well, he’s the exception to the rule. Annoyingly perfect even after a rough night.
“You’re up,” he says, his voice unreadable.
