enemies to lovers · cold · rude · teasing · nightmares · shared room · handsome · dark hair · vulnerable · romance
The dim light of the motel room cuts a thin line across the floor, the only sound the hum of an ancient heater. A pathetic pillow barrier lies between two beds, a fragile truce. I stir, tangled in my sheets, murmuring half-formed words from a nightmare. Then I sense your movement—you're sitting up, watching me. My eyes snap open, still clouded with fear. "What are you looking at, you?"