Chapter 7: Ray's Discovery
The break room hummed with the refrigerator's low drone. Alan stirred his coffee, watching the cream spiral into brown. Ten minutes until quitting time.
Ray slid onto the bench across from him, grinning like he'd found a winning lottery ticket. "You know, for a guy who never talks, you've got the whole floor talking."
Alan's grip tightened on his mug. "What do you mean?"
"Jan." Ray leaned forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. "The way she looks at you when you walk past her office? I've seen that look before. That's the look of a woman who's not just watching you clean."
Alan's face burned. "She doesn't look at me."
"Right. And I'm the CEO of this place." Ray laughed, loud enough to make Alan flinch. "Come on, man. Her office is the only one you spend extra time in. And lately you've been grinning like an idiot every time you leave it. You think nobody noticed?"
Alan opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn't come. Ray was too observant. Too close to the truth.
"You're not mad, are you?" Ray's tone softened, just a little. "I'm happy for you. Seriously. But you gotta be careful. People talk. They see things."
"What are you trying to say?"
Ray shrugged. "Just that if you two are doing what I think you're doing, you should find somewhere a little more private than the supply closet. That's all."
The break room door swung open. Jan stood in the doorway, her purse slung over one shoulder, her eyes finding Alan immediately. She didn't look at Ray at all.
"Alan." Her voice was warm, unhurried. "You ready to head out?"
Ray's eyebrows shot up. He looked between them, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Oh? And just what are you two getting up to?"
Jan smiled at Ray, sweet as honey. "Just a movie. I'm dragging Alan to see the new hero comic thing tonight. He's been talking about it for weeks."
Alan blinked, his coffee mug frozen halfway to his lips. He hadn't said a word about any movie. He barely knew what was playing at the theater these days.
Ray's grin widened. "Oh, is that right? Didn't peg you for a comic guy, Alan."
"Uh." Alan's throat tightened. "Yeah. Love heroes."
Jan's eyes sparkled, a tiny private laugh tucked behind her lips. "He's a real fan. Very into capes and cowls."
Ray snorted. "Whatever you say. Just don't let him drag you into a comic shop afterward. That's a rabbit hole."
Jan tilted her head, considering the idea with an exaggerated thoughtfulness. "Actually, Ray, I think it'd be the other way around. I'd be the one dragging him."
Ray barked a laugh. "Oh, I bet you would."
"And honestly," Jan continued, tapping a finger against her chin, "I think I could get him to do just about anything. Don't you think?"
Alan felt his stomach drop. The coffee mug felt scalding in his hands now, and he set it down before he could drop it.
Ray's eyes danced between them. "Anything, huh? Like what?"
Jan looked at Alan, slow and appraising, the way she might study a spreadsheet that held unexpected surprises. "Like a superhero costume. Do you think he'd let me dress him up?"
Alan's face went from warm to molten. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Ray howled. His laugh bounced off the vending machines and the tile floor, loud enough that Alan was sure the entire floor could hear it. He slapped the table, sending a spoon skittering across the surface.
"Oh man," Ray wheezed, wiping his eyes. "Alan in tights. I'd pay to see that."
Alan stared at the floor, willing it to swallow him whole. The pattern of the linoleum suddenly seemed fascinating, the little gray specks in the white tile deserving of his full attention.
"I don't think I'd need much convincing," Jan said softly, just for Alan's ears, and the trembling heat in his chest shifted into something else entirely.
Ray was still laughing, bent over the table, completely oblivious to the way Jan's eyes had gone dark and warm, to the way her hand brushed against Alan's knee beneath the tabletop.
"Come on, man," Ray managed between gasps. "You should see your face right now."
Alan cleared his throat. "I, uh. I should get my coat."
Jan rose smoothly, her hand lingering just a moment longer on his knee. "Me too. We don't want to be late for the movie."
Alan stood, grateful for the excuse. The coffee mug stayed on the table, forgotten. Jan was already moving toward the door, and he followed, his legs unsteady.
"Hey, Alan!" Ray's voice cut through the room.
Alan froze mid-step, turning back.
Ray leaned against the vending machine, arms crossed. "Let me know how the movie is, alright? I've been thinking about catching it myself this weekend."
Alan's mouth worked. "Sure. Yeah. I'll, uh, let you know."
Jan's hand found Alan's hand, light and warm. "He'll give you a full review. Spoilers and all."
Ray laughed again, softer this time. "Looking forward to it."
Alan nodded once and turned, letting Jan guide him through the door. The hallway felt cooler, quieter. Her squeezes his a little harder.
"Comic guy," she murmured, low enough that only he could hear.
Alan flushed. "I panicked."
"You were very convincing. Very into capes."
Alan ducked his head, his cheeks still warm. "Well, I mean. I do like superheroes. I wasn't just saying that."
Jan's steps slowed. She looked at him, curious and soft. "You do?"
"Yeah. My mom used to watch the old reruns with me when I was a kid. Superman, Batman. I never told anyone, though. It always felt, you know, kind of dorky."
Jan slowed, her hand still holding his. "You're into a lot of nerdy things like me. Video games, comics, your mom's old reruns. But you draw the line at superheroes?"
Alan blinked. "What? No, that's not..."
"You like them," she said, tilting her head. "But you won't admit it out loud."
"I just did," Alan pointed out.
Jan smiled, slow and knowing. "Because I dragged it out of you. What else are you hiding, Alan?"
"Have you seen my desk?" Jan asked, pulling him toward her office. "There's a plotter I yell at, a keyboard with three missing keys, and a mug that says 'Talk Nerdy To Me.' I've got a level forty paladin in the guild I've been raiding with for six years. You don't get to call yourself dorky around me." She dragged him inside and closed the door behind them. "You're amateur hour."
"Amateur hour?" Alan's eyebrows shot up. He set his jaw, some unfamiliar spark flickering in his chest. "I've got a complete run of the original Star Trek novels, mint condition, going back to 1967. I once skipped a coworker's retirement party to finish a forty-hour campaign in Ocarina of Time."
Jan's smile froze into something softer, wider.
"And I have a filing cabinet," he pressed, "dedicated entirely to my homemade D&D campaign setting. I statted out every NPC by hand. I've got binders, Jan. Tabbed binders."
She laughed, low and warm.
"The paladin?" he said. "I've raided with that guild since high school. They call me the Keeper of the Lore." He squared his shoulders. "You've got a mug full of encouragement."
Jan stepped closer "Okay. You're not amateur hour."
"Damn right I'm not." The words came out before Alan could stop them, and he felt a strange surge of pride, the kind he hadn't felt since he'd beaten that final raid boss after three weeks of attempts. "I've got action figures still in their packaging. I wrote a twelve-page backstory for my D&D character. I own a replica of the One Ring, and I've worn it to work at least twice."
Jan's eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. She leaned against her desk, watching him with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
"And," he continued, the momentum carrying him forward, "I wear tighty whities. The full dork package."
He said it with his chin lifted, proud, the way he'd once delivered a toast at his cousin's wedding. Completely oblivious to the way Jan's breath had gone shallow, the way her fingers had curled around the edge of her desk.
"Alan," she said, and her voice came out rough.
He blinked. "What?"
She crossed the room in three steps, her hand landing flat on his chest, pushing him back against the wall. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide.
"You have no idea what that does to me," she said, her voice low and trembling. "Do you know how many guys I've dated who tried to be cool? Who wore those stupid designer boxers and pretended they didn't care about anything?"
Alan's mouth opened, but nothing came out. The wall was cool against his back, and Jan was pressed against him, warm and solid.
"You stand there," she continued, her fingers curling into his work shirt, "and you tell me you're a bigger dork than I could ever imagine, with your mint-condition books and your tabbed binders and your tighty whities, and you say it like it's a badge of honor."
Her mouth found his before he could respond, hungry and demanding. His hands came up automatically, gripping her hips, and she groaned against his lips.
"Tonight," she breathed, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "When we get to my place, I want to see those tighty whities. And I want to hear you talk about your D&D campaign while I'm taking them off."
Alan's brain short-circuited. "You... you want to hear about my campaign?"
Jan laughed, low and wicked. "I want to hear everything, Alan. Every last dorky detail."
"Tonight," she breathed, her fingers still curled into his shirt. "When we get to my place, I want to see those tighty whities. And I want to hear you talk about your D&D campaign while I'm taking them off."
Alan opened his mouth, but the words died in his throat. Jan's hand was flat against his chest, her breath warm on his lips, the promise hanging between them like a live wire.
"So does that mean you two are skipping the movie now?"
Jan's hand flew off Alan's chest like she'd touched a hot stove. Alan's head snapped toward the door. Ray stood in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the frame, a yogurt cup in one hand and a plastic spoon dangling from his mouth.
The spoon dropped into the cup. "Oh my God," Ray said slowly, his grin spreading like a sunrise. "I was kidding. I was absolutely kidding. And here you are, two seconds from getting a free show above the supply closet."
"Ray," Jan said, her voice dangerously calm. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to hear about the tighty whities." Ray took a deliberate bite of yogurt. "And the D&D campaign. Which, honestly, Alan, I never would have pegged you for. Respect."
Alan's face burned so hot he was sure his collar would catch fire. He couldn't meet Ray's eyes. He couldn't meet Jan's eyes either, so he stared at a coffee ring on her desk instead.
Jan recovered faster than he did. She smoothed her blouse, crossed her arms, and fixed Ray with a look that could have frozen a spreadsheet mid-calculation. "Ray. I need you to not mention this to anyone."
"Mention what? That Alan's into tie-dye underwear and dice games?" Ray's grin didn't waver. "Come on, Jan. I'm not a monster. Your secret's safe with me."
"Which secret?" Alan found his voice, though it cracked halfway through.
Ray looked at him, genuinely amused. "All of them, buddy. I just walked in here, saw you two chatting about movies, and left. That's the whole story." He pointed his spoon at Jan. "But you owe me one. A real one. I'm thinking pizza."
Jan sighed, the tension leaving her shoulders. "Fine. Pizza. Friday."
Ray's grin widened. "Done. And Alan?"
Alan looked up.
"Don't worry about the floor." Ray's voice softened, almost kind. "I'll make sure nobody else catches you two before you figure out where you're going with this."
He winked, turned, and ambled back down the hallway, whistling something that sounded suspiciously like the Superman theme.
Jan closed the door and leaned against it, her eyes on Alan. "That was fun."
Alan's heart was still hammering. "He's going to tell everyone."
"He won't." Jan's voice was certain. "Ray's a gossip, but he's not a rat. He'll keep it quiet." She paused. "But we should probably stop using the office for, you know. Mine has a bed. Walls. Lock on the door."
Alan's throat went dry. "Yeah. Probably smart."
Jan crossed the room, took his hand, and pressed her chest against his arm. "Ten minutes. Then we're out of here. Movie's at seven."
"Right. The movie." Alan swallowed.
Alan squeezed her hand once, then let go. "I'll see you at seven."
Jan's smile followed him out the door. He walked the hallway on autopilot, past the break room, past the elevator, out into the crisp evening air. The parking lot felt bigger than it should have. His car was where he left it, unremarkable and beige, and he climbed in with his pulse still thrumming.
The drive home took twelve minutes. He spent most of it replaying Ray's grin and Jan's hand on his chest, and the rest of it trying to remember if his apartment was clean enough to walk into.
It wasn't, but he didn't plan on staying long.
He packed fast. A change of clothes, his toothbrush, the good cologne he saved for weddings. He stood in front of his closet for a full minute before pulling out the navy sweater. It fit him well, hugged his shoulders just right. He paired it with dark jeans and clean sneakers, and caught himself checking the mirror twice before he grabbed his keys.
The drive to Jan's complex took twenty minutes. He hit every green light, which felt like a sign. Her building rose up ahead, familiar now from the night before, and there she was, standing by the entrance.
She wore a cream knit sweater that hung off one shoulder. Soft jeans, rolled at the ankle. White sneakers with scuffed toes. Her hair was loose and slightly damp, like she'd just showered, and she was holding a mug of something steaming.
Alan pulled into the visitor spot and killed the engine. Jan looked up, and her face broke into a smile so warm it made the evening feel ten degrees brighter.
He got out, bag slung over one shoulder. "You didn't have to wait outside."
Jan shrugged, steam curling from her mug. "I wanted to see you pull up."
Jan's smile softened as he drew closer. "You can bring that bag inside later. We should get moving, or else we'll be late."
Alan glanced at the door, then back at her. "Right. The movie."
"Unless you'd rather head up now." She winked. "I'm just saying. My couch is comfier than a theater."
Alan felt his cheeks warm. "We should see the movie. I promised Ray a full review."
Jan laughed. "Fair enough." She tilted her head, eyes drifting over his car. "Is it okay if I ride with you? I like your car."
Alan blinked. "Uh. Sure. Yeah."
He opened the passenger door for her, and she slid in with a pleased hum.
The theater lobby smelled of butter and artificial cheese. Alan bought the tickets while Jan grabbed the popcorn, a large bucket with extra butter that she carried against her chest like a shield.
Their seats were in the middle row, close enough to the screen that they had to tilt their heads up slightly. The previews droned on, but Jan kept nudging him with her elbow, pointing at the trailer for some rom-com with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"This one looks terrible," she whispered.
"Terribly good?"
"Just terrible." She grinned, and the theater lights dimmed.
The movie was far better than either of them expected. An space epic about rebels and a fading empire, with a hero who was actually likable and a villain who chewed scenery with relish. Alan found himself leaning forward, his eyes fixed on the screen. Jan did the same, their arms brushing in the shared armrest.
The popcorn bucket sat between them. Alan reached in and his hand touched hers. She didn't pull away. Neither did he. They ate in silence, their fingers meeting among the kernels, trading pieces back and forth without a word.
Halfway through, a twist in the plot made Jan gasp. She grabbed Alan's arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. He looked at her, and she looked back, wide-eyed, and they both burst into silent giggles.
"Sorry," Jan whispered, but she was still laughing.
Alan pressed his forehead against his fist, trying to contain himself. Her shoulder shook beside him. The moment went on far too long, and the movie was good, but this was better.
The credits rolled to enthusiastic applause. Jan stretched, her sweater riding up slightly. "Okay. That was actually worth it."
"Told you," Alan said. "I know my space rebels."
They shuffled out with the crowd, the cool evening air hitting their faces. "There's a park down the street," Jan said, nodding toward a line of trees just visible beyond the parking lot. "Want to walk a bit?"
Alan checked his watch. It was late, but not too late. "Sure."
The park was quiet. A gravel path wound between old oak trees, past a small pond where ducks slept with their heads tucked under their wings. The streetlights cast soft orange pools along the path, and the air smelled of cut grass and damp earth.
Alan's hands swung at his sides. Jan's brushed against his knuckles once, twice. The third time, her fingers curled around his, and neither of them said a word. It felt natural, like they'd been doing it for years.
"So," Jan said, "the ending. Do you think the planet actually survived?"
"Of course it did. They set it up for a sequel."
"That's not a guarantee. Sometimes they just kill everything."
Alan squeezed her hand. "Then I'd demand a refund."
Jan laughed, low and warm, the sound carrying through the quiet park. They passed a small kiosk near the pond, still lit, with a handwritten menu taped to the counter. The smell of frying seafood drifted toward them.
"Smells good," Alan said.
Jan pulled him toward the kiosk. "Come on. They've got calamari here. It's a hidden gem."
"You're a calamari person?"
Jan raised an eyebrow, stopping at the counter. "I'm a lot of things you don't know yet. Come on, I'm buying."
She ordered a basket of fried calamari and two sodas. The man behind the counter handed them a paper basket steaming with crispy rings. Jan led Alan to a nearby bench, and they sat close together, the warmth of the food rising between them.
Alan picked up a ring, dipped it in the little cup of marinara, and took a bite. The batter was light and crunchy, the squid tender.
"Oh, this is good."
Jan watched him, something soft in her expression. "You like calamari?"
"Love it," he said honestly. "My mom used to make it when I was a kid. On special occasions."
Jan's smile faltered, just slightly. "I didn't know that."
"There's a lot you don't know," Alan said, popping another ring into his mouth. "But I'm working on it."
Jan tilted her head, the last bite of calamari suspended between her fingers. "What else don't I know?"
Alan set down his soda, the condensation cold against his palm. "You know that RPG series we play? The one with the taverns and the ale and the, uh, roasted boar?"
Jan's eyebrows lifted. "Fable of the Hearth? Yeah."
"I have the cookbook."
"The what?"
"The official cookbook. Fable of the Hearth: Recipes from the Wilds. It came with illustrations of every dish from the game. Turnip stew, honeyed mead bread, the whole thing."
Jan put her calamari down. "You have that?"
Alan shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. "I bought it years ago. Thought I'd use it, you know? Make something from the tavern menu. I've made, um. Two recipes. Total. The bread came out like a brick, and the stew burned the bottom of my pot."
"But you have it."
"Yeah."
Jan's knees turned toward him on the bench. "Can I borrow it?"
Alan blinked. "What?"
"The cookbook, Alan. I want to see it." She leaned forward, the excitement cracking through her usual composure. "I've been looking for that thing for months. It's out of print everywhere. I found a used copy online for a hundred and forty dollars and I still almost bought it."
"You collect cookbooks?"
"I collect game stuff." Jan's smile widened. "And I'm a decent cook. I can fix that stew recipe. I can fix all of them."
Alan's chest went warm. "You'd really want to?"
"Alan." She took his hand, her fingers lacing through his. "I want to cook every single dish in that book with you. I want to burn a pot together. I want to see if the bread really is impossible."
Alan laughed, a low, warm sound that surprised him. "Okay. Deal. I'll bring it next time."
Jan's whole face lit up. "Next time. I like the sound of that."
They finished the calamari in comfortable silence, the paper basket growing empty between them. Alan crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can by the kiosk. The night air had turned cooler, and Jan shivered slightly, pulling her sweater tighter.
Alan shrugged off his sweater and held it out. "Here. Take it."
Jan smiled, shaking her head. "You're sweet, but we should head back anyway. It's late."
He looked at the dark park, the empty path. "Yeah. Probably."
They walked back to the car, hands finding each other's without a word. Her fingers were cool against his palm. He squeezed once, and she squeezed back.
The parking lot was nearly empty. Alan opened her door, and she slid in, looking up at him with a warmth that chased away the chill.
"Best movie date I've ever had," she said.
Alan smiled. "Even with the calamari?"
"Even with the calamari?" Alan asked.
Jan's smile softened in the dim parking lot light. "You'd be surprised how much more fun even the simplest of things are doing them with someone you actually like."
Alan's face warmed. He ducked his head, fumbling with his keys. "Yeah, I guess I would."
The engine turned over with a soft rumble. Jan buckled her seatbelt and settled back, her hand finding his thigh as he pulled out of the lot. The heater hummed, and the radio played something low and forgettable. They drove in easy quiet, the kind that didn't need filling.
Jan's complex came up faster than Alan expected. He parked in the visitor spot and killed the engine. The engine ticked as it cooled, and Jan's hand was still on his leg, warm through the denim.
"So," she said, unbuckling with a click, "when's your next day off?"
"Thursday."
"Mine's Friday." She grabbed her purse and stepped out, and Alan followed with his bag. The night air had teeth, and he zipped his jacket halfway up. "We could link up Thursday night. I'll be up late anyway."
"In the MMO?" Alan said, falling into step beside her.
"Obviously. I've got a level forty-five rogue you haven't met yet." Jan's key turned in the lock, and she pushed the door open, kicking off her sneakers by the mat. "I'll walk you through the new raid progression. You can be my tank."
"I've never tanked before."
"You'll learn fast." Jan flicked on the living room light and dropped her purse on the couch. "I'm a good teacher. Patient. Very encouraging when my students succeed."
Alan set his bag by the door, his shoulders loosening as the warmth of her apartment wrapped around him. "And when they fail?"
"Then I get to watch them try again until they get it right," Jan said, already padding down the hallway toward her bedroom. The light clicked on, spilling warm yellow over the bed with its rumpled sheets from this morning.
The bedroom light glowed warm over the rumpled sheets, the pillows still dented from the night before. Jan crossed to the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt, a pair of soft gray shorts, and held them up, considering.
"Okay, so tell me something about the Earthenfolk. The lore says they're descended from stone giants, right?" She peeled off her sweater, the knit fabric sliding up over her ribs, and tossed it onto a chair. Her jeans followed, and she stood in her bra and panties, pale blue cotton, untroubled by being half-dressed in front of him.
"Yeah, that's right." Alan set down his bag and toed off his sneakers. He unbuttoned his work shirt, working the buttons loose one at a time. "But there's a split in the lore. Some scholars in the game claim they're tied to the mountain spirits, not the giants. There's a whole questline where you can choose which origin tale gets written into the cathedral's records."
"That's the thing I love about that game." Jan pulled the t-shirt over her head and reached back to unhook her bra, sliding the straps down her arms. "The histories are unreliable. You get to decide what's real."
Alan laughed softly, folding his shirt in neat quarters. "My group spent three sessions arguing about it. We ended up having a vote."
"A vote?" Jan's eyebrows rose as she climbed onto the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. "Over lore?"
"Over which origin story we wanted to be true." He unbuckled his belt, slid his jeans down his thighs, and stepped out of them. The cotton of his briefs sat loose around his hips, the white fabric soft and yielding, a little baggy in the seat, snug where it mattered. "One guy threatened to quit the campaign. Not over a dragon, over mountain spirits versus stone giants."
Jan's eyes tracked down his body without permission. His legs were lean but solid, the muscles of his calves well-defined from years of pushing carts and climbing stairs. His stomach was flat, not carved, but firm, the kind of shape that came from carrying everything below the waist. His briefs bunched slightly at the hip, the waistband riding a little low, and the looseness of the cotton somehow made the shape of him clearer, not hidden.
She swallowed.
"The vote," she managed. "What happened?"
Alan folded his jeans with care, running the creases flat against his thigh before laying them on the chair beside her sweater, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stand in his underwear and treat his clothes with that kind of attention. "We voted for the giants. Three to two. The guy who threatened to quit was so relieved he brought snacks to the next session for everyone."
Jan's mouth went dry. His shoulders rolled slightly as he reached up to hang his shirt over the back of the chair, the muscles in his back shifting under his skin, not bulky but defined, a quiet kind of strength. She'd touched that back. She'd felt it move under her hands, but seeing it like this, unhurried, unaware, was something else.
He was still talking, something about the cathedral records and a side quest involving a missing relic, his voice easy and warm. She lay back against the pillows, pulling the sheet up to her waist, her heartbeat quickening for no reason she could name.
"You've got a lot of opinions about fictional religions," she said, her voice coming out lighter than she intended.
Alan turned from the chair, still in his briefs, and grinned. "Fictional religions are safer to argue about than real ones."
"You're not wrong."
He crossed to the bed, one knee pressing into the mattress first, then the other. He braced a hand on the headboard and climbed over her, and as he did, the muscles in his arms and chest tightened. The cotton of his briefs pulled across his hips, the loose bunch of fabric catching for a moment against the shape of him before settling back. His thighs flexed, steady and sure, carrying his weight without effort.
Jan's breath hitched.
Alan froze, halfway settled, his face inches from hers in the dim lamplight. Her eyes had gone wide, her cheeks flushing a deep, unguarded pink.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
Jan's mouth opened and closed. She pulled the sheet up to her chin, her blush climbing all the way to her ears. "Fine," she said, too fast. "I'm fine. Totally fine."
Alan studied her for a long moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You sure?"
"Positive." She pressed her hands flat against her cheeks. "Just. Warm. It's warm in here."
"It's November."
"Then the heat is high." She rolled onto her side, facing the wall, pulling the blanket over her shoulder. "Go to sleep, Alan."
He settled onto his back beside her, still smiling at the ceiling. "Okay. Goodnight, Jan."
"Goodnight." A pause. "Stop smiling."
"I'm not smiling."
"You're absolutely smiling. I can hear it."
Alan turned onto his side, facing her back. He could see the curve of her shoulder, the edge of her ear, still pink. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair off the nape of her neck.
"You're cute when you're flustered," he said softly.
"Go to sleep."
He grinned into the dark, warm all the way through.
Jan's shoulder rose, fell, and went still. Alan watched the soft curve of her spine, the pale line of her neck in the dim light. He shifted closer, chest to her back, and let his arm settle over her waist.
She exhaled, long and slow, and her body relaxed into him like a lock finding its key. Her hand came up, fingers resting over his, and she pulled his arm tighter against her ribs.
He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck. She made a small, sleepy sound of contentment. Her breathing slowed, deepened, and he felt himself drifting with it, her warmth a steady anchor pulling him under.
The last thing he heard was her breath hitching once, soft and warm. Then nothing but the quiet hush of two people tangled together, asleep.