I woke up to the faint smell of coffee drifting through Adrian’s house. For a second, I forgot where I was. The ceiling above me wasn’t the one in my dorm, and the sheets smelled faintly of cedar and clean laundry—his sheets.
The memory makes my chest do this weird warm-ache thing. There’s guilt, too, prickling at me. I didn’t mean to lean so hard on him or stay the night. But after what happened and the way he insisted, I shouldn’t go back to my dorm till the new locks and cameras were in, I sort of caved. Not exactly my finest hour, but what else was I supposed to do?
Still, waking up in my professor’s house? That was something else entirely.
I slip out of bed, shoving my hair back. There was no point pretending I looked put-together. The kitchen smells like heaven. Adrian’s there, sl
