I woke up at 4:48 AM with a girl pressed against my left side like she had always been there.
Naomi's face was tucked into my shoulder. Her arm was thrown across my stomach. One of her legs had somehow ended up hooked over mine in the night, and her striped hair was a disaster across the pillow, pink and black spread out in every direction. She was warm. Heavier than expected. Her breathing was slow and even, lips parted slightly.
I stared at the ceiling for a second.
Then I looked at her.
She was objectively beautiful. I knew that. Tall, brown skin, big pink eyes that were currently closed, a body that made the academy uniform look like a crime of underselling. Naomi Love was genuinely pretty in the soft, effortless way that sneaks up on you.
But she wasn't the prettiest girl in my class.
She wasn't even the prettiest girl on our floor.
