Page 25 of Everything We Left Unsaid

But it felt so real.

I blink up at him, feeling my face heat from the memory of my dream. Hopefully, he’ll attribute my pink cheeks to the flush of slumber.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Uh...” I hesitate. “Not exactly.” His brow knits with confusion and I suppress the urge to reach up and smooth the wrinkles out with my fingertips. “Sorry I fell asleep on you,” I quickly change the subject.

“It’s no problem.” He shoots me one of his show-stopping grins. “The slobber will eventually dry from my shirt.” He glances down at his shoulder and I cringe in embarrassment. I can barely make out the faint, damp spot on his shirt in the low light, but it’s there. The proof of my unattractive, open-mouthed-and-probably-snoring sleep written on his sleeve.

He chuckles as my face contorts with mortification. I would never be able to face him again if he knew what I’d just been dreaming about.

“I’d better go so you can get into bed,” he proclaims, standing from the couch. “Need me to tuck you in?” he adds with a smirk. The way he looks at me, I feel like he knows exactly what I was dreaming about. But I laugh it off, hoping he can’t tell how nervous I am around him.

“I think I can manage,” I assure him as we head toward the door.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He leans down and presses a quick kiss to my cheek before quickly slipping outside. I’m left standing there in shock, my hand pressed against the spot his lips touched, wondering what the hell is happening to me.

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