Sunlight hit my eyelids like a physical slap.
I groaned, trying to roll over, but found that I couldn't move my left arm. Or my right leg.
There was a weight pressing down on me. A soft, warm, lavender-scented weight.
I cracked one eye open.
Ariana was sprawled on top of me.
Sometime during the night, the polite distance we had maintained had completely collapsed. Her head was resting on my chest, rising and falling with my breathing. Her arm was thrown across my stomach, and her leg was tangled with mine beneath the sheets.
She was sleeping soundly, a small stream of drool dampening my silk shirt.
My brain rebooted.
'...Shit.'
I froze, terrified to move a muscle. If I woke her up now, the screaming would shatter the windows.
But fate, as usual, hated me.
Ariana stirred. She mumbled something about "stirring the pot," shifted, and slowly blinked her eyes open.
She stared at the silk button on my chest.
Then she looked up.
Our noses were about three inches apart.
