*Will*
I watch as Kiera takes a moment to survey the guest room. The bed is a relic from the early 90s, the kind of mattress that’s sagged in the middle from years of use. I can’t help but chuckle as I say, “I told you it was small.”
Her eyes dart around the room, taking in the vintage floral wallpaper and the mismatched furniture. “Wow, this really is cozy,” she replies with a teasing lilt. “Are you sure you want to share this space with me?”
I shrug, a playful grin spreading across my face. “If you want, I can sleep on the floor. I promise I can make a pretty good pillow.”
“No way,” she shoots back, her tone suddenly serious. “If anyone should sleep on the floor, it’s me. I’m the one who said yes to staying.”
I shake my head, crossing my arms. “I’d never let you sleep on the floor.
