Sheila’s POV
Sleep doesn’t come easily. It never does when my head is full of him.
The sound of his voice, the way his eyes lingered earlier like he could still taste my reaction. I try to bury it, but the memory won’t fade — it hums under my skin, quiet but sharp.
The ceiling above me glows faintly with the streetlight leaking through my blinds. My sheets are twisted around my legs, warm and suffocating. I flip to my side, exhale, and try to think of something else. Anything else.
But my body betrays me.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him leaning against the car, the way he looked at me — not with softness, but with that same steady pull that says he knows. That he’s always known.
I roll onto my back, staring up again, heart beating faster than it should. The city hums outside my
