Lior’s shirt smells like amber and mint dollar notes. I’m swimming in it. Literally and metaphorically.
Legs curled under me like I’m trying to shrink myself out of existence. Wine glass in hand.
Half-full—or half-empty, I don’t even know anymore. Depends on how much I want to lie to myself tonight.
Inside, he’s sprawled out like a prince. Or maybe more like a storybook version of one.
The kind of prince that doesn’t have to fight for the crown because it’s just handed to him.
He sleeps easy. Chest rising and falling, lips slightly parted. Like the world never clawed at his skin.
I envy that.
That peace that only a newborn is able to achieve.
Out here on the balcony, it’s wind and glass and too much sky. The city looks like a living thing—so full of light and motion it feels li
