Sunlight crept gently through the curtains, pale and soft, warming the edges of the room before either of them stirred.
Charlotte was the first to shift.
Her fingers, still curled lightly against Noel's shirt, tightened for a second as if clinging to a dream she didn't want to lose. Then she blinked awake slowly — eyes unfocused, lashes trembling — before she realized where she was.
And who she was leaning on.
Her breath hitched, just barely.
Noel felt the movement before he opened his eyes. He blinked once, the world swimming into focus: Charlotte's pink hair scattered across his chest, her forehead pressed against him, her legs tangled with his beneath the blankets. Her warmth, familiar now, seeped into him like the last memory of the night before.
"Morning," he murmured.
Charlotte froze for half a second — then groaned softly and buried her face against him in embarrassment. "Noel… don't say it like that…"
