Felcity's POV.
Morning light spilt softly across my dorm room. The sun hadn't fully risen, but the sky was painted in pale pink and gold. A cool mist rested gently on the ground, and the world felt silent, like it was holding its breath before the day began. It was a chilly, quiet early morning, where everything felt calm, a little mysterious, and peaceful. I woke up warm. Not blanket-warm. Not the kind of warmth someone leaves behind from a radiator. No. This was Christopher's warm. Which could only mean one thing. I was in trouble.
I had planned to wake up before him, and technically, I did. The best part was that his breath was already brushing softly against the back of my neck in slow, steady waves, each exhale sending a ridiculous shiver down my spine. He was still asleep beside me, his hand lightly resting on mine. I traced the lines of his fingers with mine, careful not to wake him, and let a small smile form on my face.
Last night still lingered in my mind. The party, the tension, the heat, and the words we shared all felt like a dream and a promise at the same time. I hadn't realised how safe it could feel to be this close to someone, to trust so easily. I shifted a little so I could see him better. His curls had fallen over his forehead, his breathing calm and steady. The messiness of last night, the nerves, the rush, the overwhelming emotions, had settled into something quiet and simple. Something real. He was so handsome, it almost took my breath away. I felt so lucky to have him, to finally feel something real with him.
His arm curled firmly around my waist, his legs tangled with mine, his chest pressed against my back, holding me like I might disappear if he let go. His face rested against my hair, and every gentle breath made my heart skip. Our bodies were so close, so connected, I couldn't tell where I ended and he began. This was dangerous. Not the simple kind of danger. The kind where a girl wakes up and realises the boy she swore she'd never get too close to has built an entire, impossibly safe little universe around her overnight. The kind where the boy you promised yourself you wouldn't fall for has somehow become your safest place. And in that moment, with him holding me like this, all the noise, the chaos, the world outside… it didn't matter. There was only him, only us, only the quiet, steady rhythm of being together.
And I might have been smiling, just a little. The truth was, I liked it. I stayed still, pretending to be asleep, telling myself not to move because even the smallest shift would remind us both how dangerously comfortable this was. I couldn't handle that. I wasn't ready to name those feelings yet. I was still holding onto that pretence when his voice, low, warm, sleepy, and unfairly sexy, brushed against my ear and ran straight through me. I stayed perfectly still because moving would mean admitting last night had really happened. The laughter, the kisses that felt like promises, the whispers that almost felt like dreams but weren't, they were all real, and I couldn't deny it.
My hand traced down his face to his lips, when he suddenly nipped me lightly, playful and teasing.
"Ow!" I gasped, more surprised than hurt. A small laugh escaped me, and I felt my cheeks blush.
I thought, 'What the heck? Stop it.'
He chuckled softly, his voice rough with sleep. "Stop overthinking," he whispered, brushing his nose against mine.
Busted. I tried to turn, but his arm only tightened, holding me in place with that maddening mix of warmth and quiet authority that made my heart race. My eyes snapped open. "How do you even know? I'm not… I wasn't…"
"You were," he cut in without opening his eyes. "Your breathing changes when you're spiralling. You hold yourself tight when things feel out of control or like you're bracing for something."
I blinked. "What?"
"Because when you're lost in your head, you do this little pause," he said, his breath warm against my ear. "You hold it all in, like you're holding your breath to stop yourself from feeling something."
Fantastic. Not only was I pinned, but I was also completely exposed, like a favourite book he had memorised. I hated that he knew that I was an open book. I loved that he knew that.
I exhaled slowly and muttered, "You're creepy."
"You love it," he said. Before I could roll my eyes, his lips brushed mine, soft at first like he was asking permission, then deepening until breathing became irrelevant.
Before I could argue, his lips touched mine. Slow and unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be. We were supposed to get up. We had classes. An essay is due. A whole life outside this room. But right then, none of it mattered. At first, it was soft. Just a light brush of his lips, gentle and easy. But it slowly grew deeper, so quietly that I did not notice at first… until I did. My breath caught. His hand slipped under my shirt, warm against my skin, his thumb moving slowly along my side. My thoughts went blank. We were supposed to get up. We had things to do. Real responsibilities. A whole life outside this bed. But when Christopher kissed me like that, slow and sure, like he had all the time in the world, I decided the rest of the world could wait.
Chris stirred, his ocean eyes catching the light. "Hi. Morning," he whispered against my lips, his voice still soft and husky from sleep.
"Hi. Morning," I breathed back, trying to play it cool. My heart tightened a little as I realised how much I wanted to stay right here, tangled in his arms, longer than the world would allow.
He smiled, that slow, lazy smile that made my stomach flip, and squeezed my hand. "Sleep okay?"
"Better than I thought I could," I admitted, glancing down at our hands. "Last night… You made it easier, even when everything felt complicated."
His gaze softened. "I'll always make it easier, Felicity. No rush, no pressure. Just us."
I nodded, letting his words sink in. They were simple, but they held everything. Trust. Care. A quiet promise to be patient. We stayed like that for a while, with no need for more words. The quiet of dawn filled the room, and it was enough. Enough to remind me that love didn't always need big moments or fireworks or grand gestures. Sometimes, it was the steady warmth of a hand in yours, the gentle brush of a thumb against your skin, the calm in the storm. Then he kissed me again anyway.
"Your mouth stinks," I teased when we broke apart, ruining the moment on purpose.
He gasped dramatically, pulled back a little, and folded his arms in mock offence. "Wow. Brutal. Ah, that's rude. I feel deeply offended."
"No, you won't. You'll survive. Go brush."
"Fine," he said, pretending to sulk. He smirked. "But I don't have my toothbrush. Should I just use yours?"
I scrunched up my face, nose wrinkling, lips pulling down as if he had just said the most disgusting thing ever. "Ew! Absolutely not. I have a spare brush for emergencies like this. Don't even think about it. Ugh, you're so gross."
"No, see, that's not gross. I prefer the term resourceful," he teased, his eyes glinting.
"Ugh! Disgusting."
"No," he said smugly, leaning in again. "You love me. I know you do. I can feel it."
"Oh, gosh. Go brush, will you," I groaned, rolling my eyes. But my smile gave it away.
We ended up in the bathroom, brushing our teeth side by side. I tried not to laugh at the faces he kept making in the mirror. We showered separately, and afterward Chris helped me pull on a sweater and my shoes. Then we settled at the table with tea and pancakes.
"Did you know pancakes are my favourite? Just like you," I said, pretending it was new information.
He gasped dramatically. "What? No way." Then he grinned. "Just kidding. Of course I know."
"Ugh. You're so annoying and sweet at the same time. It's unfair."
He winked. "Best combination."
"Unfortunately."
After breakfast, we got ready for the day. Even after the steam had faded and the air cooled, his touch still lingered on my skin and in my thoughts. It stayed with me in the quiet, warming me with the memory of his hands and the slow glances that promised the day was far from over. In the soft space between heartbeats.
>>>>>>>>>>>
Christopher's POV
Step one. Show up for her. Check.
Step two. Try not to lose my mind. Failed.
Because I already lost my mind.
Step three. Be the kind of man she cannot stop thinking about.
If I could freeze time, it would be this moment, her here with me. If I could keep this feeling, I would hold on to it like something precious. If I could trap it in a bottle, I would guard it like treasure and never let it fade. Her hair was soft and messy from sleep, her voice low and a little rough when she whispered my name, and she looked so beautiful it made my heart ache, like the kind of temptation I would give up everything for without thinking twice.
I wanted to give her the world, yes, but I also wanted the quiet mornings where she would still be here, close to me while everything else faded away. I did not just want the kisses. I wanted the arguments that would make us walk away, only to come back again. The laughter. I wanted her sharp side and her soft side. The messy and complicated parts of loving her. All of her. And if she let me, I would take it.
But I also wanted the real parts of her. The days when she would slam the door in my face. The moments she would challenge me until my blood boiled. The arguments that would leave us pacing in separate rooms, only to end with me kissing her as my life depended on it. I wanted the mess. The flaws. The nights that hurt and the mornings that healed. I wanted everything. She was studying me now, probably trying to read my mind, and I would let her if I could. Because in this bed, in this small dorm room, we weren't the Prince and the girl from Los Angeles. We were just us.
She looked at me, studying my face. "Why are you staring at me like that?" she asked, her cheeks turning pink.
"Because I'm trying to figure out the exact moment you became my favourite part of my day," I said before I could stop myself.
Her blush deepened, and her eyes softened for a second. Then, because she is Felicity, she ruined the moment by shoving a pillow into my face.
"Immature," she declared.
"Menace," I shot back, laughing.
She narrowed her eyes in mock offence. "Ah! Don't go getting all sentimental on me, Your Highness," she teased, even as the corner of her mouth curved into the smile that had me hooked in the first place.
I grabbed the pillow, tossed it aside, pulled her closer, and kissed her until her laughter melted into a breathless sigh as she forgot what she was saying, her fingers curling into my shirt like she never wanted to let go. In that moment, there was no world beyond Felicity Paddington, only the taste of her lip, the warmth of her skin, and the way she made time feel irrelevant. Right then, nothing else mattered. If I could have kept her in that morning forever, I would have. Because I wasn't just falling for her. I was already hopelessly, completely gone.
We were seconds away from forgetting about the outside world when the door rattled loudly. "Felicity Paddington! Open this door!" Penelope's voice came from the corridor, every word full of smug I know what you're doing energy. "Don't make me use my spare key!"
Felicity buried her face in my chest with a groan. "She does not have a spare key."
I smiled and tilted my head, my lips brushing her hair. "Pretty sure she does, love."
"No, she doesn't."
BANG. BANG. BANG.
"I have urgent girl business! And by urgent, I mean you might want to leave that bed if you value your dignity! I'm coming in!"
Felicity shot upright, her hair a messy golden halo, her shirt slightly askew. "Oh my gosh! She's insane."
I chuckled, reaching for my watch. "And determined. She's also about to come in here."
And just like that, our perfect morning was over. The quiet of the dorm, the warmth, the soft laughter, the stolen kisses, all of it dissolved into a storm of footsteps, threats, and one very determined sister. Pillow fights and heartbeats were replaced by knocks and shouts. The world outside our little bubble had returned, and there was no hiding from it now.