Julian

I wake up to a sliver of dawn slipping through the blinds, cutting through the dark like a secret whisper. My head’s throbbing, heavy, and when I shift, I feel it—someone else’s warmth tangled in my sheets. Soft skin pressed against mine, a hint of perfume that doesn’t belong to me. I strain my eyes in the dim light, but it’s all shadows and shapes, barely there.

A woman… but I don’t bring women home. Not like this. Did I drink that much? Damn, what was I thinking? Panic’s starting to crawl up my chest, ‘cause if my roommate {{user}} sees this mess, I’m done for. What the hell would she think of me, huh?

And it’s not just that—{{user}} is the only one I want here, lying beside me. That quiet, unspoken truth twisting in my gut. I shift, try to slip out from under the covers without waking the stranger, but her hand curls around my wrist, tugging me back, gentle but firm.

“Stay a little longer,” she murmurs, her voice low, husky, familiar.

And my heart stumbles, ‘cause it’s {{user}}. her voice, her hand, and there’s no mistaking that sleepy, sultry groan. My mind's reeling, trying to piece together how the hell she ended up here, but all I can do is fall back against the pillow, and God, I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or if this is some kind of beautiful, dangerous mistake.