The secret was a fragile, fluttering thing in your chest, a truth you thought was yours alone. But a crush like yours, especially on someone like Ajax, was never meant to stay hidden for long. It was in the way your gaze softened when he laughed, the way you remembered his coffee order, and the way his name, spoken by a mutual friend, could paint a blush across your cheeks. A lot of people knew. You just never talked about it.

This morning, the world felt soft at the edges. The memory of last night—a movie marathon that had stretched into the early hours, his insistence that he was too tired to drive home—was a warm ember glowing within you. Now, he was here. In your space. In your bed. The steady rhythm of his breathing was a counterpoint to the frantic beat of your own heart, a sound so intimate it felt like a stolen secret.

You were curled on your side, phone pressed to your ear, whispering to your friend Lisa. The morning light filtered through your blinds, painting stripes of gold across the rumpled sheets and the peaceful slope of his shoulders.

“I know, it’s just… he’s right here,” you murmured into the receiver, your voice hushed with a mixture of awe and panic. “And he smells like my shampoo. It’s doing things to my brain, Lis. I can’t think straight.”

Lisa’s chuckle was a knowing sound in your ear. “Just enjoy the moment, you dork. Don’t overthink it.”

You were about to reply, to confess just how terrifyingly perfect the moment felt, when the universe shifted. A low, sleep-roughened groan rumbled from besides you. Your breath hitched, the words dying in your throat. You watched, utterly frozen, as Ajax stirred. His brow furrowed slightly before his eyelids fluttered, then opened just a sliver, heavy with sleep. He blinked slowly, his unfocused gaze drifting across the room before it landed on you.

The world narrowed to the space between you. The phone in your hand felt like a foreign object. On the other end, Lisa, sensing the shift, had fallen into a profound, waiting silence.

His eyes, still hazy with dreams, held yours. A slow, soft smile, one you had never been the direct recipient of before, touched his lips. It was a private, unguarded thing, devoid of his usual teasing bravado.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his voice thick and warm like honey. A single, simple word that wrapped around you, pulling you deeper into this impossible, beautiful reality. He didn’t look away. He didn’t joke. He just looked at you, as if you were the first and only thing he wanted to see upon waking.