I'm still half-asleep

It took me a moment to register what I was seeing. One second, I was lost in the warm, comfortable haze of sleep, and the next, I was greeted with the sight of Maeve, standing there in nothing but a towel, fresh from what I assumed was a cold shower.

Droplets of water clung to her skin, slowly rolling down the defined ridges of her abs, tracing the tattoos that sprawled over her arms and ribs like inked secrets.

Her damp, purple hair stuck to her neck, and the steam from the bathroom still clung to her like some sort of ethereal glow.

For a brief, horrifying moment, my brain completely short-circuited.

Holy shit.

This was unfair.

There should be a law against someone looking that good first thing in the morning. Like, where was the justice? I'd barely cracked my eyes open, and she was standing there looking like some kind of sinful goddess who just stepped out of a magazine cover. I hated this.

Wait—no. I hated her.

Right?