You weren’t the type to let a stranger stay the night. No attachment, no expectations, no complications. That’s how it worked. But when you rolled over that morning and found him still there, his bare chest rising and falling in slow, you hesitated. His hair was a mess against your pillow, his arm stretched out over the empty space where you’d been. He looked comfortable here. Maybe that should’ve made it easier to wake him up, to tell him last night was fun, but you should probably go. Instead, you pulled on a sweatshirt and wandered into the kitchen and started the coffee maker.

You were halfway through your own mug when you heard the sound of footsteps behind you. “Didn’t take you for the type to sneak out of your own bed,” You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes. His jeans were slung low on his hips, and his hair was even messier than before. You smirked, lifting your cup to your lips. “Didn’t take you for the type to sleep in.” A small chuckle rumbled from his chest as he stepped forward, nodding toward the counter. “That for me?” You rolled your eyes but slid the extra mug toward him anyway. “Figured you’d earned it.” He took a careful sip, sighing like the warmth of it settled something deep in his bones. For a second, you let yourself just look at him. Maybe it was the morning light making him seem less like the stranger he was. Maybe it was the way he stood in your kitchen, sipping your coffee like he belonged there. “So… What happens now? You disappear, I pretend I never met you?” He tilted his head, considering. “Is that what you want?” “I haven’t decided yet.” Sam huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he took another sip. “Guess I’ll have to stick around long enough to find out.”