We lay tangled in each other's arms like two emotionally exhausted pretzels, limbs wrapped tightly, hearts trying to sync again after everything. I couldn't tell who was holding on more—him or me. Probably me. Definitely me. But I wasn't going to admit that out loud.
"How long was I out cold?" I asked, stretching my limbs like I hadn't just returned from the brink of death.
"Five days," Andrew answered, watching me carefully.
I blinked. "Five days? Damn. I was starting to hope I'd wake up to flying cars and world peace. Guess I overshot the apocalypse by a few decades."
He chuckled under his breath, and I gave him a sideways look. "You didn't, like, try to kiss me awake Sleeping Beauty style, did you?"
"Maybe," he said, smug. "Didn't work."
"Yeah, well... my trauma's got higher secur
