Chapter 73

The morning light came through the curtains in thin, lazy stripes, painting Dani’s bed in shades of gold and grey. You woke slowly, consciousness drifting in like the tide, aware first of warmth – Dani’s back pressed against your chest, her body curved into yours like she’d been moulded to fit there. Her hair was everywhere, dark curls spilling across the pillow and onto your shoulder, tickling your jaw. You could smell her shampoo, something coconut and faintly sweet, mixed with the sleep-warm scent of her skin.

You didn’t move. Not yet. Days off were rare, sacred, and you weren’t about to waste this one by waking her too soon.

So you lay there, breathing her in, watching the dust notes dance in the light. The Katseye dorm was quiet around you – no alarms, no rehearsals, no footsteps thundering down the hall. Just the soft hum of the refrigerator somewhere distant, the occasional creek of the building settling, and Dani’s breathing, slow and even, the rhythm you’d learned to fall asleep.

Your arm was draped over her waist, hand resting against her stomach where her oversized sleep shirt had ridden up. You traced lazy circles there, feather-light, not to wake her, just to feel her. To remind yourself this was real, this was yours, this was home.

She stirred. A small sound, something between a hum and a sigh, and she pressed back into you, seeking warmth. You smiled against her hair, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Mm,” she mumbled, not awake, not quite. “Stop moving.”

“I’m not moving,” you whispered.

“You’re thinking.” Her voice was thick, gravelly, the sound she only made in the first minutes of waking. “I can feel you thinking. It’s loud.”

You laughed, soft, the vibration travelling between your bodies. “How do you feel someone thinking?”

“Practice.” She rolled over, finally, blinking at you with eyes still heavy-lidded and unfocused. Her face was puffy with sleep, her hair a disaster, and she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. “You’re always thinking. About work, about food, about whether Megan ate your yogurt.”

“She did eat my yogurt.”

“I know.” Dani grinned, slow and wicked, reaching up to trace your jaw with her thumb. “I watched her do it. Didn’t stop her. Traitorous, really.”

“You traitor.”

“You still love me.”

She said it automatically, the words slurred and smug, and you felt it in your chest – that familiar flip, that warmth that had never faded, not once in all these months. You caught her thumb, pressed a kiss to the pad of it, and she watched you do it, something softening in her gaze.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s your day off.”

“Day off,” she repeated, like she was tasting the words. Then she smiled, real and bright, and surged forward to kiss you.

It was messy, morning-breath and sleep-warm and perfect. Her lips were soft, chapped, and she made a small sound in her throat when you deepened it, hand sliding into her hair to hold her close. She tasted like last night’s toothpaste and something uniquely Dani, something you’d never been able to name but would recognise blindfolded.

“Hi,” she breathed against your mouth.

“Hi.”

She pulled back, just enough to look at you, and her eyes traced your face like she was mapping it, like she hadn’t seen it a thousand times before. Her fingers followed – brow, cheekbone, jaw, the corner of your smile.

“You’re pretty in the morning,” she said, serious in the way only half-awake Dani could be.

“You’re pretty always.”

“Flatterer.” She kissed your nose, your cheek, the spot just below your ear that made you shiver. “Keep going.”

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Your hair is a disaster and yet I want to wake up to you like this everyday for the rest of my life.”

She stilled. Her hand paused against your neck, thumb brushing your pulse. The moment stretched soft and heavy, and you realised what you’d said now, how it sounded, how you meant it.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

She kissed you again, and this time it was different – slower, deeper, something reverent in the slide of her tongue against yours. Her body pressed closer, leg sliding between yours, and you felt the heat of her through the thin cotton of her sleep shirt, through your own.

“Dani,” you murmured, half-warning, half-want.

“What?” She pulled back, grinning, wickedness creeping back into her voice. “It’s a day off. No schedule. No rehearsals. Just us. Just this.”

“Just this,” you agreed, but you caught her wrist as her hand wandered south, stopping her. “Slow.”

She pouted, dramatic, bottom lip jutting out. “But I missed you.”

“You saw me eight hours ago.”

“Exactly. Eight hours.” She rolled her hips against yours, deliberate, and you gasped, fingers tightening on her waist. “Too long. Criminal, really.”

You laughed, breathless, and flipped her, pinning her gently to the mattress. She went easily, arms above her head, grinning up at you like you’d given her a gift. Her shirt rode up further, exposing the soft curve of her stomach, the dip of her navel, and you leaned down to press a kiss there, feeling her muscles jump under your lips.

“Tease,” she accused, but her voice was fond, breathless.

“Patient,” you corrected, kissing her higher, between her ribs, the hollow of her sternum. “Something you know nothing about.”

“I know plenty.” She arched as you reached her collarbone, teeth grazing gently. “I know I want you. I know you’re being slow on purpose. I know-” She gasped as you sucked a mark just above her breast, hidden, secret, only for her to find later in the mirror. “I know that feels unfair.”

“Unfair?” You looked up, met her eyes, dark and wanting. “You want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

You smiled, wicked now, and settled back against her, fitting yourself along her side, leg thrown over hers, hands trailing lazy patterns on her hip. She made a frustrated noise, but she didn’t push, just turned her head to find your mouth again, kissing you slow, deep and endless.

The morning stretched around you, golden and lazy, and you lost track of time – lost track of everything but her mouth, her hands in your hair, the soft sounds she made when you kissed the spot behind her ear. It heated and cooled and then heated again, a slow burn that never quite caught flame, never needed to. This was enough – her body warm against yours, her laughter breathless against your neck, her whispered ‘I love you’ into your shoulder like it was a secret she couldn’t keep.

“I love you too,” you said back, and meant it more than morning, more than light, more than anything.

She settled deeper into the pillows, pulling you with her, tangling your legs together. Her eyes drifted closed again, but she was smiling, that small private smile she only gave you.

“Nap?” she mumbled.

“Nap,” you agreed.

“Then more of this?”

“More of this.”

She hummed, content, and pressed a final kiss to your forehead. “God I love you.”

You laughed, soft, and tucked your face into her neck, breathing her in. “I love you more.”

The dorm stayed quiet around you, the world outside moving on without you, and you let it. Today was yours. She was yours. And there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

———-

SOFT CHAPTER ALERT!!!!!!!

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