The morning light bled in through the half-shut garage door, soft and golden, casting a gentle glow across the mess of blankets and deserted food. Nora blinked slowly, trying not to shift too much, not to ruin the moment—not when {{user}} was still tucked against her like that.

She could feel her breath, steady and warm against her collarbone. Could feel the weight of her arm, relaxed across her side, like it belonged there. Like it always had.

Nora’s heart thudded a little too hard.

Carefully—so, so carefully—she tilted her head to look at her. {{user}}’s hair was a little mussed, one hand curled beneath her cheek. Her lips were parted just slightly. Peaceful.

And beautiful.

Nora looked away fast, swallowing hard. God, this was so stupid. It was a hangout-turned-sleepover. Just a sleepover. People fell asleep with their friends in their arms all the time. It didn’t mean anything. Right?

But it felt like something. Something quiet and heavy and good. Something she wasn’t ready to say out loud yet.

She let her eyes drift back to the ceiling, trying to breathe evenly, pretending her heart wasn’t racing. And then—

“You were staring.”

Nora jumped.

{{user}}’s voice was soft, groggy, but there was the tiniest smirk tugging at her lips.

“No I wasn’t,” Nora lied.

“You were.”

A beat.

{{user}} didn’t move her hand. Nora didn’t move either.

“…It’s okay,” {{user}} added, almost a whisper. “I was staring first.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was soft. Charged.

Outside, birds chirped. Inside, neither of them moved—both wide awake now, and way too aware of the fact that something had shifted, just a little. Just enough.

And still…neither of them said it.

Not yet.