I woke with a smile on my lips.
Not a practiced one. Not the kind I wore like armor. This one was quiet, sleepy. The kind that tugged at the corners of your mouth before your brain remembered the weight of the world.
For once, the weight wasn’t there.
I stared at the ceiling for a long time, letting the memory of last night settle over me like a warm cloak. The knock. The way he stood there in the dark, soaked and silent. That kiss, God, that kiss.
He’d looked at me like I was something sacred and sinful all at once.
He hadn’t stayed. Hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words. But the way he touched me, the way he pulled me close like he couldn’t help it, those things said enough.
I didn’t dream that.
That was real.
And I would hold onto it. Because it wasn’t just a kiss.
