The sunlight peeked in through the half-open window, sliding across the wooden floor and crawling up the sheets of Zayn's bed like a nosy intruder.
Zayn stirred a little, his blond hair flopping messily across his eyes as he let out a lazy yawn.
His body was warm — warmer than usual.
Something, or rather someone, was nestled up against him, and for a moment he thought maybe he'd fallen asleep clutching a pillow again.
But no, pillows didn't breathe softly into your chest or mutter your name in their sleep like some dreamy confession.
He tilted his head slightly and saw a familiar cascade of silver-golden hair, glowing faintly in the soft morning light.
Elisse lay there with her cheek squished against his shoulder, one leg thrown carelessly over his waist, and her massive chest practically swallowing the space between them.
It was a snug, suffocating comfort — not that he was complaining.
Zayn blinked, momentarily wondering if it was still a dream.
