KINA
I stirred slowly, my brain swimming through fog and cramp-ridden waters, and for the first time in hours, I didn't want to die.
Something warm was pressing into my stomach. Soft, but firm. It soothed the ache that had been gnawing at me like a little demon with metal teeth. A hot water bottle?
Probably.
But that wasn't the important part.
The important part was that I was wrapped around someone.
Warm. Big. Solid muscle. A slow, even heartbeat beneath my ear.
And, wait.
Shampoo.
My shampoo.
My eyes snapped open, and I blinked into… fabric?
No. Chest. A very male chest. Black shirt. Familiar scent. My face was smushed into it.
Oh my God.
OH MY GOD.
I was draped over Kieran like some kind of goddamn human backpack. My arm was slung across his body, my leg casually tossed over his waist like I owned him. His arm was wrapped tightly around my waist, resting across my back like he was holding me in place so I wouldn't float away while the other served as my pillow.
And we were pressed together. Body to body. No air between us. No sense. No shame.
The hot water bottle was still tucked between us, my stomach quietly sighing in relief, but the rest of me? Not so lucky.
My face was burning.
I HAVE A BOYFRIEND.
I panicked silently, like any respectable coward would. Gently, very gently, I tried to untangle myself. Slowly sliding my leg down, oh no, his thigh. That's his thigh. Abort mission.
Tried to lift my arm, nope, he's holding it hostage.
Just as I thought I was making progress, he shifted.
And pulled me closer.
His grip tightened like he could sense my betrayal.
I swear to God, my soul briefly left my body. I stared at his face, still asleep, still annoyingly perfect with that sharp jaw and lashes and peaceful expression like he hadn't practically put a gun to my head in the streets two weeks ago, and told myself I had about fifteen seconds before my heart exploded.
I froze.
And then something even worse happened.
I didn't want to move.
The heat of him, the way he smelled, the feel of his arms around me, my uterus wasn't the only one sighing.
And besides… the cramps were still there. Dull. Bearable. But real.
This? This position? Wrapped around him like I belonged there? It was the only thing helping.
I sighed, very, very quietly, and let my forehead rest back against his chest.
Just for five more minutes.
Ten, tops.
Maybe I'd wake up to a bloody murder scene thanks to my stupid period, but at least I'd die warm.
...
I was still half-asleep when I felt him stir.
Kieran.
His chest moved beneath my cheek, slow, steady, then paused.
He was waking up.
My brain, still fuzzy from pain and warmth, screamed at me to get up, roll away, scream into a pillow, do something... but all I did was squeeze my eyes shut tighter and slow my breathing like a little bitch playing dead in front of a predator. Because if I opened my eyes now and he saw what I was doing, what my entire body was doing wrapped around him like some human seatbelt, I'd combust.
Just disappear.
He was awake now. I could feel it. He hadn't moved much… but there was that energy, that electricity, like when a lion opens its eyes but doesn't roar. The kind of quiet that screams.
His hand shifted just a little on my lower back. Barely a graze. But my entire nervous system short-circuited.
I didn't breathe.
Didn't twitch.
Didn't do shit.
Then he exhaled, a low, rough breath, right against my forehead. And murmured, deep and lazy:
"…Tch. Thought you were dead for a second, sleeping that hard."
My entire soul flinched.
But I stayed still. Dead still. Frozen.
He moved again, his leg shifted between mine. His hand grazed my side. Then,
Then he chuckled. Chuckled.
Right in my damn ear.
> "Guess I'm just your emotional support teddy bear now, huh?"
I would sue the universe.
I would sue.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. Soft. Way too soft for the man who bled on an alleyway surrounded by trash. And then he said it, his voice so damn smug I could feel my uterus cramp out of embarrassment:
"...You drooled on me, sweetheart."
I died.
I died.
Call my landlord. Tell her I'm not coming back.
I stiffened.
But I didn't move. Not yet. Because maybe if I stayed still long enough, the earth would open up and swallow me whole.
Kieran didn't say anything else. He shifted, peeling himself away like a blanket being slowly pulled off. The warmth left with him. And I heard his feet pad against the floor, light and careless. He didn't even look back.
He just muttered under his breath as he left the room:
> "I liked the cuddling, by the way."
I didn't know if I was still cramping or if I was just dying from shame.
I rolled onto my back, stared at the ceiling, pulled the covers over my face and whispered:
> "I should've faked my death when I had the chance."
After the most emotionally humiliating wake-up of my entire existence, I somehow found the strength to crawl out of bed and waddle to the bathroom like the broken human I was.
My thighs hurt.
My stomach hurt.
My soul hurt.
I changed my pad, whispering prayers to every deity I could think of, begging not to run into him.
Please, God, Buddha, Steve Jobs, anyone, just let me get back to my room without seeing him.
And, wow. My prayers were heard.
Because when I stepped out of the bathroom?
Silence.
No looming shadow. No smug bastard waiting to tease me. Just me and the hallway. I nearly did a victory dance, until I turned the corner and—
"Evening, sleeping beauty," Kieran said, holding a steaming cup of tea like he'd just stepped out of some twisted domestic fantasy.
I froze.
He smirked, watching me from the kitchen entrance, elbow rested casually against the wall, all broad shoulders and effortless menace.
Abort mission. Retreat.
I covered my face like a five-year-old and tried to power-walk past him.
"You're just gonna ignore me after we slept together? Twice?"
I stopped. Dead in my tracks. Turned slowly.