“This is nice,” Griffin murmured, his voice rough and quiet. “Just this. Being here with you.”
“Yeah.” I pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “It is.”
We lay in comfortable silence, and Griffin’s breathing gradually slowed, his grip on me loosening as exhaustion caught up with him. I should have suggested we move—that he go to his bedroom to sleep properly before tomorrow’s game, that I leave so he could rest without distraction.
But I was so comfortable, so content wrapped in his arms, that I couldn’t make myself move. Just a few more minutes. Then I’d get up, let him sleep, head home.
Just a few more minutes…
A door slammed in the neighboring apartment, jolting me awake.
Griffin’s apartment was dark except for the glow from the TV, the music still playing softly. Griffin’s arms were stillwrapped around me, his breathing deep and even with sleep, his body warm and solid beneath me.
I carefully extracted my phone, squinting at the brightness… 2:07 a.m.
Shit.
Panic cut through the comfortable haze immediately. I’d fallen asleep. Griffin had the most important game of his season in less than seventeen hours, and instead of sleeping properly in his own bed, he’d passed out on the couch with me draped across him like a blanket.
I needed to leave. Now. Before this got any worse.
I carefully extracted myself from his embrace, moving with agonizing slowness to avoid waking him. He stirred slightly when I shifted my weight and made a small sound of protest but didn’t wake.
I stood beside the couch, looking down at him in the dim light. He looked peaceful in ways I rarely saw—his face relaxed, the tension gone from his shoulders, the perfect captain’s mask completely absent. Just Griffin, sleeping deeply after finally finding some rest from his anxiety.
I did this. I came over and helped him relax enough to sleep. That’s something.
But I’d also let us both fall asleep, which was reckless and stupid and exactly the kind of mistake that could lead to discovery.
I reached out and gently shook his shoulder. “Griffin. Hey. Wake up.”
He stirred, making a small sound of protest, his arms searching for me instinctively before his eyes fluttered open. “Wha?—”
“It’s after two in the morning. We fell asleep on the couch.” I kept my voice soft, reluctant to break the peaceful moment, but knowing I had to. “You need to go to bed. Real bed.”
“Wesley?” His voice was rough with sleep. He pushed himself up on one elbow. His hair was mashed on one side, his eyes heavy-lidded and confused.
“Don’t go,” he said, the words slightly slurred with exhaustion.
My chest tightened at the plea. “I have to. It’s after two. You need proper sleep in your own bed before tomorrow.”
“Stay.” Griffin reached out a hand toward me. “Please stay.”
God, I want to.Every fiber of my being wanted to climb back onto that couch, wrap myself around him again, and sleep through the rest of the night in his arms.
But that was exactly what we couldn’t do.
“I can’t.” I kept my voice gentle but firm. “You have the biggest game of your season tomorrow. You need real rest, not passing out on the couch. And I need to leave before someone sees me.”
Griffin’s hand dropped and resignation settled over his features even as his eyes held disappointment. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right.”
I leaned down to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Sleep. Real sleep, in your bed. I’ll be there tomorrow, watching. Proud of you for everything.”
“Promise?” His voice was small, vulnerable in ways that made my heart ache.
“Promise.” I kissed him again, then forced myself to step back before I changed my mind. “Good night, Griffin. Tomorrow’s going to be incredible.”
I left before he could respond, slipped into the hallway, and closed his door with a soft click. The corridor was empty, silent except for the distant hum of the building’s ventilation system. I made my way to the elevator, hyperaware of every sound, every potential witness.
