Vivienne
I'm ripped from heaven by the worst sound in existence.
Damien's alarm.
It blares like a war siren, echoing off the stupidly high ceilings of his dorm, and I physically flinch, burying my face deeper into his hoodie. His chest.
He groans.
"You gonna get that?" I mumble, eyes still shut, voice muffled by fabric.
"You were on top of me for seven hours," he rasps, reaching over to smack the phone silent. "I think I lost my spine."
"Flattering."
"Painful."
I peek at the clock. 8:00 a.m. Great. Law classes may have started at the crack of dawn, but I am done for the day. He, however...
I grin and tug his hoodie tighter around me. "You have classes."
"I noticed."
"And rounds."
"Viv."
"And probably boring anatomy lectures."
"You're enjoying this."
"So much."
He sits up with a sigh, and my entire body slides off him like a defeated koala.
"Nooo," I groan, dramatically throwing myself back on the bed. "Don't go."
"I literally have to."
"But what if you didn't?"
"I'd fail."
"Worth it."
He pulls off the blanket. I squeak and cling harder. "It's cold!"
"You're wearing my hoodie."
"My hoodie now," I say, tugging the sleeves over my hands.
He rolls his eyes and drags himself toward the bathroom, muttering something about "evil little demons in disguise." I grin into his pillow.
When he comes back out, clean and perfect and brushing a hand through his hair, I'm still sprawled dramatically across his bed.
"You coming with me?"
"You want me to?"
"No."
"Liar."
"Vivienne."
I jump to my feet, fixing my ponytail and stretching like a cat. "I'll walk you, duh. I'm your emotional support animal, remember?"
He gives me a long-suffering look.
I beam.
Because under all that, there's a tiny curve of his lips he can't hide.