Neither of us sounds convinced.
She smiles faintly. “Good.”
I stare at the ceiling, her weight warm against my side.
I didn’t just show up for her concert.
I showed up for her.
And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.
Chapter seventeen
Sloane
"You’re stealing the blankets again."
I say it without opening my eyes.
He makes a low sound beside me, half asleep, unapologetic. “They migrated.”
“They didn’t migrate,” I mumble. “You abducted them.”
A corner of the comforter tugs back in my direction. His arm follows, warm and heavy as it drapes over my shoulders. I inhale, then freeze.
This is the part that gets me.
Not the sex. Not the kissing. Not even waking up next to him.
It’s how easy it feels.
I blink awake in my own bed, in my own apartment, and that alone should make this feel grounded. Familiar. My place. My space. And somehow, he fits in it too well.
Colby breathes slow and deep behind me, still resting. No guard. No awareness.
That’s what unsettles me.
This is intimacy without effort.
I tell myself it doesn’t mean anything yet.
I tell myself that twice, just to be sure.
He shifts, pressing closer.
I stare at the ceiling.
Last night was incredible.
This morning feels… complicated.
“Good, you're awake,” I say.
“Barely.” A pause. “You’re thinking too loud.”
I snort. “That’s not a thing.”
“It is when you stop breathing for five seconds,” he says, cracking one eye. “What’s going on in that head?”
