ARIA'S POV
I didn't mean to stay.
We'd fallen asleep on his couch somewhere after midnight, the movie long finished, my head finding the space between his shoulder and his chest the way it had without either of us deciding that was where it would go. I woke up at 2 AM to the city quiet outside the windows and his arm heavy and warm around me. The choice was right there in front of me and I chose to stay.
In the morning I woke up to the smell of coffee.
He was already in the kitchen, barefoot, in yesterday's shirt, doing nothing more remarkable than grinding beans and finding mugs. The penthouse in early light looked different from the night version. Softer. The books still everywhere, the blanket we'd pulled off the back of the couch now draped over the armchair. The city outside pale
