Ava's POV
I woke up warm.
Too warm.
The kind of warm that comes from being completely wrapped up in someone — legs tangled, arms around you, chest against your back.
Ray.
I blinked slowly, the sunlight sneaking through the curtains, dancing lazily across the room. My head was on his chest, my arm slung across his waist, and—
Oh God.
My mouth was open.
I pushed myself up slowly, mortified. There was a very visible, very wet patch on his shirt right where my face had been.
No.
No no no.
I'd drooled. On Ray.
I sat up like I'd been electrocuted, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. My face was burning. I glanced at him, hoping maybe — just maybe — he hadn't noticed.
He had.
He was awake.
Smirking.
His voice was a low morning rasp, sleepy and amused. "Did you just wipe your drool on my hoodie?"
I stared at him, deadpan. "No."
His smirk grew. "You did."
"I did not!"
He reached up, tapping the now damp patch of fabric near his collarbone. "Then what's this, hmm? Love juice?"
I groaned. "You're disgusting."
He laughed, deep and quiet and fond. "You're the one who slobbered all over me."
I grabbed a pillow and hit him with it.
He caught it easily, tugged it out of my hands, and just… smiled at me. That quiet, rare Ray smile. The kind he only ever gave to me.
And in that moment, under sunlight and stolen pillows, with drool on his shirt and no makeup on my face — I felt more wanted than I ever had before.
He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "You know you talk in your sleep, right?"
I froze. "What did I say?"
He paused for dramatic effect, then:
"You said, 'Sebby better not have skipped breakfast or I'm going to cry on the floor.'"
I snorted. Then laughed. And then… sighed.
I leaned back onto his chest again, drool stain be damned. His arms came around me like muscle memory.
Ray didn't leave.
He never left.
And now, with his steady heartbeat under my ear, I knew — he never would.