He nudged the door fully open and carried me into my old bedroom, lit only by the pale blue glow of the moon through the blinds. The bed was freshly made—thanks to Tiffany, probably, who had a habit of nesting even in houses that didn’t belong to her.

Blake set me down on the bed like I was the most fragile thing he’d ever held, the kind of careful that felt like reverence.

I shifted beneath the blanket as he straightened, brushing my hair gently off my forehead. Then, before I could say a word, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Slow. Soft. Crushing.

Without another word, he turned, the soft creak of the floorboards beneath his feet the only sound that filled the room.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing his shirt. “Where are you going?”

He paused, glancing down at my hand. “Back downstairs.”

“Why?”

His mouth curved in that way it did when he was trying not to say something obvious. “Because my room’s a disaster, B.”

I grimaced, sitting up slightly. “Oh. Right. My bad.”

He hummed in response, more amused than irritated.

“Sorry about that. Really, I am sorry,” I muttered, pulling the blanket over my face in mock shame.

“Mm, I bet you are.”

I peeked out from under the blanket. “You don’t have to go.” My voice came out more vulnerable than I meant it to. “You...can stay? Here. With me. If you want?”

Blake blinked. Just once.

“Just to sleep,” I added quickly, stumbling over the words. “Not like…sleep sleep. Just sleep. The bed’s big enough, right?”

He chuckled softly. “You’re cute when you’re awkward.”

I swatted at his chest. “I will rescind the invitation.”

“No, no. I’m staying.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender, his grin softening into something quieter before he dropped onto the edge of the bed, looking at me. “You sure?”

I nodded. “I don’t want to fall asleep without you again.”

“Okay,” he murmured, reaching for the hem of his shirt and tugging it over his head in one smooth motion. He tossed it onto the floor before turning back to me, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “But just so you know, I snore.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I shifted to make room for him. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he replied, pulling the blanket up and sliding in beside me like he’d been doing it forever—like he would do it a million times more. His arm immediately curved around my waist, like it belonged there. Like I belonged there.

I let out a slow breath, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he settled in. “Well,” I murmured, unable to hide my smile, “if you do snore, I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.”