19.
A/N This is the first time I ever planted something in a chapter and no one caught any hints at it usually I'm not discreet enough lol.
Also ???? if this isn't the first book you're reading by me then you will know I forget small details a lot lmao.
I have every scene of this book drafted in a document but sometimes they get crowded what can I say and it's hard for me to fact check in the moment once I get in the groove of writing.
I'm just a girl trying to finish her senior year of college ?????♀?. That being said:
Naomi is 27. Grant is 35.
Thank you.
···
I woke up cold.
Not freezing—just enough for it to register.
The kind of cold that only happens when your body realizes something is missing.
My eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the dim light of the room. The TV was off now, the house quiet in a way that made it feel later—or earlier—than it actually was.
I was still on the couch.
Still naked.
But Grant wasn't there.
For a second I didn't move.
Because I remembered falling asleep on him—my head tucked into his chest, his arm wrapped around me like he wasn't going anywhere.
So the empty space beside me felt wrong.
I pushed myself up slowly, my eyes scanning the room.
Nothing.
No movement. No sound. No sign of him upstairs either—not that I could imagine him just leaving me here and going to bed alone.
That didn't feel like him.
I reached for the shirt draped over the arm of the couch, slipping it over my head. The fabric fell down to my knees, soft and familiar, still carrying a faint trace of his scent.
Then I stood, my body still a little heavy from sleep as I made my way toward the kitchen.
I passed the bathroom first.
Didn't think anything of it.
Just kept walking.
Until I didn't.
Something pulled my attention further down the hall.
The back door.
It was open.
Just slightly.
Enough for the cool air to slip inside.
I slowed as I stepped closer, my fingers brushing lightly against the doorframe as I leaned into the opening.
At first I didn't see him.
Then I did.
Grant's figure moved across the balcony, passing the edge of the frame before disappearing from view again.
"Grant?" I called softly.
He turned immediately.
The cigarette was the first thing I noticed—resting between his lips now, a thin trail of smoke curling into the air.
His eyebrows lifted slightly when he saw me, like he hadn't expected me to be awake.
Then his expression softened.
He pulled the cigarette from his mouth, turning his head to the side as he exhaled.
"Did I wake you?"
I shook my head, stepping out onto the balcony.
The air hit my skin first—cool, but not uncomfortable. Early spring. That in-between kind of weather where you could almost ignore the chill if you wanted to.
"I thought you said you were trying to quit."
A small smirk tugged at his mouth.
"I am," he said easily.
The cigarette lifted slightly between his fingers now.
"I'm trying."
I looked at it for a second before glancing back up at him.
He caught the look.
"Want me to put it out?"
I shook my head. "No. It's fine."
I stepped closer instead.
Close enough now that I could see the faint exhaustion in his eyes—the kind that didn't come from one bad night of sleep.
"How come you weren't sleeping?"
He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal. "Sleep and I don't really get along that well."
That made something in my chest tighten slightly.
Because thinking about it now, I couldn't remember a single time I'd fallen asleep around him where he hadn't still been awake.
The thought lingered just long enough to make me turn my head slightly.
"How much do you sleep?"
"Four. Five hours."
It came easy, like it wasn't something he thought about much.
I frowned slightly. "That's not good for you."
He let out a quiet breath, glancing down at the cigarette in his hand.
"Neither is this," he said, almost amused.
I gave him a flat look.
"I'm being serious."
That earned a small chuckle.
He finally flicked the cigarette into the ashtray beside him, pressing it out with the side of his hand.
The tray only had a few others inside.
Not many.
That eased something in my mind I didn't realize had tensed.
Before I could say anything else, his body found me.
He stepped behind me, guiding me forward until my palms rested lightly against the railing. His arms wrapped around me easily, pulling my back into his chest.
His chin rested lightly against the top of my head as we both looked out into the quiet darkness of the backyard.
The neighborhood was still.
No movement. No sound.
Just the faint hum of the early morning settling into itself.
"You smell like smoke," I murmured.
His chest moved slightly behind me.
"Is that a turn off?"
"A little."
A quiet laugh left him, low and soft.
"Want me to get off you?"
I didn't move.
"No."
His arms loosened slightly at that, but he didn't step away.
Instead, his hands shifted.
One gathered my hair loosely at the base of my neck while the other smoothed it back, holding it there gently.
"Are you sure?" he murmured.
There was a light tug—just enough to tilt my head back so my eyes met his.
"I didn't say all of that," I said, a small smile pulling at my lips.
I watched his gaze drop briefly to my mouth before lifting again.
"Kissing me though would be crazy."
That was all it took.
A grin spread across his face before he leaned down, closing the space between us without hesitation.
I didn't pull back.
Didn't even think to.
His lips met mine, slow at first, then deeper when I leaned into him.
The cigarette didn't matter.
The smell didn't matter.
Nothing did.
His hand released my hair as I turned into him, my arms sliding around his neck like it was instinct.
The kiss broke sooner than I expected.
Not because it had to.
But because he chose to.
Before I could say anything, his hands moved again—lifting me easily, setting me against the railing.
The metal was cool against the back of my thighs.
My arms stayed looped around his neck as I leaned into him, my face brushing lightly into the crook of his neck.
A yawn slipped out before I could stop it.
"Ready to go to bed?" he called softly.
I pulled back just enough to look at him.
"Only if you are."
There was a beat of silence.
His eyes held mine for a second longer than usual.
Then a smirk tugged at his mouth.
"You're so pretty."
The words landed softer than they should've.
He didn't give me time to respond before his lips found my neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses along the side of it.
He hoisted me up again, lifting me effortlessly as he carried me back inside.
Grant didn't put me down right away.
He carried me through the hallway and up the stairs without saying anything, his grip steady, familiar—like this wasn't new, even if it still felt that way to me.
I didn't move much either.
Just stayed tucked into him, my head resting against his shoulder, my arms loosely draped around his neck.
The bedroom door opened with a quiet push.
Then closed just as softly behind us.
He crossed the room without turning on the light, moving like he already knew where everything was in the dark.
The bed dipped slightly as he set me down, one hand lingering at my waist for a second longer than necessary, like he wasn't in a rush to pull away.
For a moment neither of us moved.
I lay there, looking up at him in the dim light filtering in from the window, trying to make out the details of his face in the shadows.
In the dim light, he looked different—less composed, less put together, like whatever version of him the rest of the world saw had finally slipped away, leaving just him.
Grant shifted after a second, moving around to the other side of the bed before climbing in beside me. The mattress dipped under his weight, the space between us closing naturally as he reached for me again.
His arm slid around my waist, pulling me into him until my back pressed lightly against his chest.
The warmth of him wrapped around me immediately.
Familiar already.
Like my body recognized it before my mind could catch up.
"Still cold?" he murmured, his voice low against my hair.
"A little."
His hold tightened slightly.
"Better?"
I nodded, even though he couldn't see it.
"Yeah."
The room fell quiet again after that.
The soft hum of the house and the steady rhythm of his breathing behind me.
My body felt heavy in a different way now.
Not from exhaustion.
From everything.
From the last few days.
From the way being here made it all feel... far away for a little while.
His hand moved slowly along my arm, absentminded, like he wasn't fully thinking about anything.
"You okay?" he asked after a minute.
I didn't answer right away.
Because the truth was—
I didn't really know how to explain it.
"I'm okay," I said finally.
That seemed to be enough for him.
He didn't press.
Just pressed a quiet kiss against the back of my head instead.
"Go to sleep," he murmured.
I let my eyes close.
But my mind stayed awake for a little while longer.
I hadn't meant to settle into this so easily—into him—but it felt normal in a way that made something uneasy stir in the back of my mind, a quiet reminder that none of this existed without consequence.
Rodney would be back soon.
This—whatever this was—didn't exist in the same world as everything waiting for me outside of this house.
My body shifted slightly closer to him anyway, like it had already made a decision I hadn't fully admitted to yet. His arm tightened around me instinctively, and somewhere in that quiet, my thoughts finally began to slow, softening until they disappeared altogether.
The night passed without interruption, without tension, without the constant awareness I usually carried with me.
Morning followed just as easily. We fell into a quiet routine without needing to talk through it—getting ready, moving around each other like it was something we'd already learned. It was comfortable.