Nora’s arm was draped over my waist, her hand resting low on my stomach like she’d always meant to end up there. She smelled like expensive things I couldn’t name—warm wood, clean cotton, something with bergamot maybe—and her breathing was steady, slow, like she was already asleep or halfway there.

I wasn’t.

I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep at all.

The sheets were soft. Her bed was too. She always kept it turned down when she knew I was coming over, like she was trying to prove something she couldn’t say out loud. The same way she’d leave the fancy water I liked on the nightstand. The same way she’d bring me books she thought I’d love or drop off that honey from the farmer’s market I said once—once—that I liked.

And then she’d go cold for two days. Pretend like I didn’t exist. Like I hadn’t spent the night curled up against her chest while she tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my temple like she meant it.

It was like being spoiled by a stranger. Cherished, then forgotten. Loved, but not really.

I glanced down at her hand. She had long fingers. Pretty wrists. Always wore the same gold ring on her index finger like a signature. She touched me like I was something delicate. Like I was fragile in ways she wasn’t. But she looked at me sometimes—when she thought I wasn’t watching—like she was scared of me. Of what I made her feel.

And I didn’t know what to do with that.

Because I didn’t want anything from her that she wasn’t willing to give. But she kept giving so much, and none of it made sense. She’d buy me flowers “just because,” but she wouldn’t text back for a day. She’d brush her lips over my forehead in the quietest, most loving way, but she never called me anything more than “you.” No babe. No sweetheart. Nothing that sounded like a line she’d have to cross.

And maybe that should’ve been enough of a clue.

But then she’d pull me into her lap, slow and quiet, and kiss me like she wanted to learn me cell by cell. And I’d forget all the parts that hurt.

Like now. She shifted in her sleep, tucked her nose into the crook of my neck. I swallowed hard and shut my eyes, breathing her in. I didn’t know if this was what love was supposed to feel like. Maybe it wasn’t.

But I liked the way she held me.

I liked the version of her that only existed at night, when everything was still and soft, and the world wasn’t asking her to be anything but mine. I reached down and brushed her hair back, enamored.

Nora stirred softly, midnight blue eyes on mine as she frowned a little, then smile.

"You can't sleep?"