The morning light was merciless. It didn't filter softly through curtains like a romantic scene in some drama. No. It barreled straight into Tina's eyelids like a raid, forcing her to squint, groan, and tug the oversized blanket over her head. Somewhere beneath that blanket, Andrew's shoulder pressed firmly against her. Not intentionally, she assumed. Maybe. Probably. Possibly.
She didn't move. Not yet. Just breathing the faint scent of honey… Andrew. Her Andrew. The man who somehow, despite being ridiculously human-shaped and tall, managed to feel like a cozy pillow fortress in this tangled mess of sheets and limbs. Her head rested against his shoulder like it belonged there, though she wasn't entirely sure whose idea that had been last night.
