Lilian’s POV
The world was made of wool, regret, and the rhythmic thumping of a very loud bass line.
I woke up, or rather, my consciousness rebooted like an old computer struggling to load a heavy file, to the smell of burnt coffee and the sensation of being poked in the arm.
“Drink,” a deep voice commanded.
“No,” I mumbled, burying my face deeper into the warm, hard wall I was leaning against. The wall smelled like cedar, cold air, and expensive soap. I liked the wall. It was solid and it didn’t spin like the rest of the room. “I live here now. Go away.”
“I cannot go away,” the voice rumbled, the sound vibrating pleasantly against my cheek. “I’m the pillow you are currently drooling on.”
I cracked one eye open, only to realize wall was Alexander.
The memory of the last hour hit me
