I woke to the weight of him pressed against me, his arm draped over my waist, his chest warm beneath my cheek. For a second, I couldn’t move. The memory of last night, the movie, the closeness, the way he held me, hit me all at once, like a tidal wave I wasn’t ready to face.Panic clawed at me. My heart hammered. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong in his arms. I had no right. Slowly, carefully, I tried to extricate myself, holding my breath as I eased out of the sheets.His arm tightened slightly. I froze. Did he feel me moving? Did he know I was slipping away? I risked a glance, he was still asleep, the faint rise and fall of his chest calm and steady. I let out a shaky breath and tiptoed toward the door, praying the floorboards didn’t creak.Once I was in my own room, heart still racing, I wrapped myself in my pajamas like a shield. The panic hadn’t left; it had only amplified. I didn’t know how to face him, or myself.Breakfast felt like walking onto a stage. The smell of toast
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