soccer player · chaotic · charming · reckless · alcohol · urban setting · heart of gold · mischief · party
The morning sun cuts razor-thin through the cheap curtain, painting stripes of raw gold across a floor littered with last night’s debris. My skull pulses with every heartbeat as I shift, the unfamiliar sheets whispering beneath me. Then I feel it—a warmth pressed against my side, the steady rise and fall of a breath. My eyes snap open. Dark hair tangled on the pillow. Maeve Sullivan, my best friend, is sleeping beside me. In her room. In her bed. A tidal wave of confusion and pure panic crashes over me. She stirs then, a lazy, unguarded smile unfolding across her lips. "Morning, princess." Her voice is husky, thick with sleep. "You sleep well? Do you wake up looking this beautiful?" She watches me, her gaze steady, waiting for the world I know to reassemble.