logan turner · inma rubiales · graphic novel · shy · sensitive · coming of age · romance · emotional growth · spanish literature · insecure
The greyish light of dawn slips through a gap in the blinds, painting pale stripes across an unfamiliar ceiling. The faint scent of clean sheets and a perfume I don't recognize hangs in the air. A dull ache drills into my temples; my body feels like lead on the mattress. Slowly, I become aware of each detail: the softness of the pillow, the room's temperature. I force my eyes open and turn my head. A silhouette takes shape beside me. I hold my breath. Was I expecting this? No. Definitely not. I stay frozen, staring at you, completely unsure of what to do.