But there’s something else layered underneath it.
Something warm.
Something that feels suspiciously like being cared for.
I shift slightly, testing my limbs.
My mouth is dry. My head is… fine, actually. No hangover.
Is there even such a thing as a THC hangover? I have no idea.
Never again, I tell myself.
Never again do I take mystery gummies off a nightstand like they’re trail mix.
Though I have to admit, I slept like a baby.
So maybe next time—if there is a next time—I go for a more mindful dosage.
Talia stirs, her lashes fluttering. She blinks at me slowly, like she’s calibrating.
Then her eyes focus.
And her expression shifts.
Instantly alert.
I clear my throat, aiming for gruff and normal.
“Morning.”
Her mouth twitches. “How do you feel?”
“Very relaxed. Possibly the best sleep of my life.”
She laughs, the sound bright and light and dangerously adorable.
And then I remember something else.
Something that makes me cringe internally.
I really like you.
God.
Did I actually say that?
I turn my head toward her again.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“For what?” she asks, quieter.
“For getting me out of there.”
She nods once.
“And for… putting me to bed,” I add, the words scraping out.
