I slowly turn my head and there he is. Rory Bennett. Completely naked. Sleeping beside me. For a moment I juststare. Because this is… absurd. And he is just… delicious. His dark hair is slightly messy from sleep, falling across his forehead. One arm is stretched lazily over my waist, his hand resting against my stomach like it belongs there. The other is tucked under the pillow behind his head. The duvet has slipped down just enough that his chest and stomach are completely exposed. And good God. In the daylight he somehow looks even more ridiculous than he did last night. Broad shoulders. Solid chest. That stupidly defined stomach that looks like it’s been carved from stone like one of those statues of a Greek God. The man genuinely looks like he’s been sculpted. Which is deeply unfair for the rest of the male population.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, but the movement causes the duvet to slip even lower. Right. Okay. Now we’re seeing even more of him than I expected at eight o’clock in the morning. Fuck. He is… something else. I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. Because the reality of the situation suddenly hits me. Rory Bennett, the man half the women in this town probably fantasise about, is currently naked in my bed.
My phone vibrates on the bedside table. Once. Twice. Then again. I frown slightly and reach over to grab it. The screen lights up immediately with a barrage of notifications.
Emma:Freya Collins are you alive???
Clara:Her curtains are still closed. I walked past twice.
Clara:But Rory’s curtains are OPEN.
Hannah:Wait… WHAT.
Clara:He definitely didn’t go home last night.
Hannah:Freya you better answer right now or I’m coming round.
I press my hand over my mouth to stop the laugh that threatens to wake Rory. Oakwood might look like a quiet littletown but the women here could run an intelligence agency if they wanted to.
My phone buzzes again.
Clara:Did you kill him?
Hannah:Or did he kill you.
Clara:Honestly both options seem plausible.
I glance over at Rory again. Still asleep. Still ridiculously beautiful. Still very naked. God. I type quickly.
Freya:Morning.
The typing bubbles appear instantly.
Emma:YOU’RE ALIVE.
Clara:Answer the question.
Hannah: Is he still there?
I look back at Rory. His breathing is slow and steady, his face completely relaxed in sleep. One leg is slightly tangled with mine beneath the duvet. Like he belongs here. Like this is normal. My chest does something strange. I type again.
Freya:Jesus! Yes. He stayed over.
The chat absolutely explodes.
Emma:OH MY GOD.
Hannah:DETAILS.
Emma:ALL OF THEM.
Hannah:We deserve answers since you ditched us on group night!
I roll my eyes, still smiling. I don’t think I’ll ever stop smiling. Not with this man in my bed.
Freya:You are not getting a play-by-play.
Hannah:Boring
