Audrey’s P.O.V
I try to roll lazily to the side, ready to melt into the weekend, but something’s holding me back.
Warm. Heavy.
It all rushes back in a wave—
Drew.
Last night.
Us.
Shit.
My breath catches, panic blooming in my chest. I don’t even know what I feel—just that it’s too much. Shame. Ache. A high I haven’t come down from.
I liked it.
No—I needed it.
But now I’m suspended somewhere between craving and regret, floating in that terrible space where nothing feels safe.
What if he regrets it?
What if I do?
Please don’t let this get weird.
“Nuh-uh… not letting you go.”
His voice grazes my neck, sleep-rough and warm. I can feel the grin in it as he pulls me closer.
My stomach flips. I let out a shaky breath.
“Not even if I make breakfast?” I half-tease, half-plead, desperate to shift before the weight of everything that just happened crushes me.
His arm loosens, but before I can move, his lips brush my shoulder, then the curve of my neck.