Tiana
My eyes opened slowly, like surfacing from deep water.
My head throbbed. Each pulse behind my eyes felt like a hammer strike. My mouth was so dry that my tongue stuck to the roof of it.
But underneath the discomfort, something else registered.
Warmth. Softness. The scent of cedar and a masculine and clean fragrance.
Zane’s scent.
My eyes flew open.
The room came into focus gradually. There were unfamiliar pieces of furniture, a ceiling without the 47 cracks I’d counted in mine. And the windows had heavier curtains blocking out most of the morning light.
This wasn’t my room.
I turned my head slightly, taking in the details. A desk sat by a corner. Then a shelf.
That shelf that Zane had pinned me to, the day I tried exploring his room.
Zane’s room.
I was in Zane’s room.
M
