ISABELLA
I woke up to the smell of coffee, the soft hint of it curling beneath my nostrils and teasing me back into consciousness. My lashes fluttered open slowly, and the ceiling came into focus first, a pale ivory that I knew too well, and it took all of five seconds for my mind to register the obvious, I was in my room.
Not on the couch, not on the balcony, not halfway drooling on a cushion with a half-eaten popcorn kernel under my thigh but in my room.
I sat up slowly, blinking hard. My fingers gripped the edge of the duvet as flashes of last night came back in a lazy montage.
Logan's warm chest, the weight of his arm, his soft chuckles during the movie, the way he held me so carefully when I started to break down, like he was scared touching me wrong would make me shatter and the
