His chest moves against my shoulder. A quiet laugh.
“No,” he agrees. “I don’t remember that being in the media schedule either.”
I smile into the pillow.
There’s a small silence. Not awkward. Just… full.
I expect the usual aftermath thoughts. The ones I’ve had before. The quiet mental audit.Was that a mistake? Too fast? Too reckless?
They don’t come.
Instead there’s just a strange calm.
Jack shifts slightly, pressing another soft kiss to my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“I’m… surprisingly okay,” I admit. “Suspiciously okay.”
That gets a soft huff of amusement.
“Suspiciously?”
“I overthink everything,” I say. “It’s basically my personality.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I turn my head slightly to look at him. His hair is a mess. There’s a faint red line on his shoulder from where my nails must have caught him.
I did that.
The thought sends a small, very un-proofreader-like pulse of satisfaction through me before reality slowly starts creeping back in.
“The match,” I say.
“Tomorrow,” he confirms.
“And Alfie.”
“Also tomorrow.”
“And you’re currently… not on the eighth floor.”
He smiles slightly. “Also true.”
He reaches for his phone on the bedside table.
“I should probably text my mum so she doesn’t think I’ve been kidnapped by you.”
I watch him type. His expression shifts slightly. Softer somehow.
Staying with Ava. Back upstairs early.
He sends it before I can pretend I didn’t notice thestaying.
“I’ll need to head up around five,” he says. “Just to be there before Alfie wakes up.”
That makes sense. Of course it does.
