The rhythm of Jax's breathing steals the room. Every inhale is steady, claiming space I can’t afford to want. If I match it, I might sleep. If I don’t, I might remember who I’m supposed to be. Either way, he fills the silence until there’s no room left for air.
Sleep will not come. My mind is too busy rolling over the ever-present risk of discovery as if it will wear down the sharp corners.
Then my thoughts flicker back to Jax every few seconds, circling like moths around his flame. The way I feel when I look at him, or when the scent of him hits my nose. It doesn't help that Jax lent me an extra school uniform shirt of his to wear so my dirty clothes wouldn't ruin the bedding.
The only upside is that I won’t give myself away if the blanket gets thrown off while I’m asleep. Assuming sle
