They stayed where they were, arm steady, breathing slow.
Savannah didn’t pull away.
Savannah shifted again, her forehead nudging lightly against Tilly’s chest.
“Mm,” she murmured, the sound soft and indistinct. Her fingers curled slightly where they rested between them.
Tilly stayed still.
A second passed. Then Savannah spoke again, voice low and slurred with sleep. “Morning.”
It barely sounded like a word. More like a habit she hadn’t meant to share yet.
Tilly’s mouth twitched before they could stop it. They kept their arm where it was. “Morning,” they said quietly.
Savannah exhaled, slow and warm against their skin. She didn’t open her eyes. Didn’t pull back. Just settled more fully into the space she was already in.
“Hi,” she added after a beat, softer this time, like she was checking.
Tilly answered just as softly. “Hey.”
Savannah nodded once, the movement small and drowsy, and went still again. Her breathing evened out, the edges of sleep still clinging to her.
Savannah shifted again, this time awake enough that the movement felt intentional. Her bare knee brushed against Tilly’s thigh under the blanket, and she stilled immediately, like she’d only just remembered herself.
“We should talk,” she said. Clearer now.
Tilly felt the old, familiar tightening in their chest. Not panic. Not anger exactly. Just the reflex of bracing for an ending that came disguised as honesty.
They didn’t move their arm. “Okay.”
Savannah was quiet for a second. “I don’t mean talk like…” She made a small, helpless gesture against their chest. “Like we have to solve everything. I just don’t want to pretend last night was nothing.”
Tilly stared at the ceiling. The light coming in through the blinds was thin and gray, early morning doing what it always did, showing things without asking permission.
“I’m still hurt,” they said.
Savannah went still.
“From the hotel,” Tilly continued, voice even, but the words were tight in their throat. “You left. You didn’t say why. And then you came back as if nothing had happened. Like I wasn’t supposed to feel some kind of way about it.”
Savannah swallowed. “I know.”
Tilly waited, but she didn’t rush to fill the silence. Good. That was new.
“I panicked,” Savannah said finally. “Not because of you. Because of me. I didn’t know how to sit with what I was feeling, and I thought if I stayed, I’d say or do something that would make it worse.”
“It still made it worse,” Tilly said quietly.
“I know,” Savannah repeated, softer. “And then I didn’t know how to fix it, so I avoided it. Which I’m learning is kind of my worst move.”
That earned a quiet huff from Tilly. Not a laugh. But close.
“Yeah,” they said. “It is.”
Savannah shifted, careful now, like she was aware of every place they touched. She didn’t pull away. She also didn’t assume closeness would smooth things over.
“I’m not asking you to just… get over it,” she said. “I just needed you to know that when I left, it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I cared and didn’t trust myself not to run my mouth or my life.”
