You were already in pajamas - shorts and a T-shirt of his, of course - sitting on the edge of the bed in Johnny’s room, trying to pretend it was just another normal night.

“I’m sure it’s not bothersome?” You asked for the third time.

He leaned on the door, arms crossed, without disguising the way he looked at you from head to toe.

“Do you think I would let you come home in this rain?” He smiled. “Give me some credit, go.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth was already smiling.

He walked to the bed and pulled the blanket, hitting the mattress next to him.

“Come.”

You lay down, feeling the mattress sink on the side when he settled down, turning sideways to face you very closely. His breath was warm against his skin, and his eyes, half closed, were even bluer under the low light.

It was then that he said, with that dragged, hoarse voice, full of ulterior motives:

“You can sleep here... not that I’m going to let you fall asleep easily.”

Your stomach got a knot.

“Johnny...”

“What was it?” He whispered, his hand sliding up to his waist. “Are you going to say you didn’t miss it?”

You bit your lip, and he smiled, triumphantly.

“Come here, little witch,” he murmured, pulling you to his chest. “I swear I’m going to behave... at least in the first five minutes.”