Goodbyes

You stirred awake. Two hours, maybe three at most, that was all you’d managed. But none of that mattered, because when you turned your head, she was there.

Sydney.

Curled close, cheek pressed against the pillow, blonde hair messy in every direction, lips parted just slightly as the softest little snore escaped her. It wasn’t glamorous, wasn’t camera-ready, but to you it was damn near heart-stopping. She looked human. Sweet. Adorable in a way you knew no paparazzi lens would ever capture.

You stayed perfectly still, afraid to disturb her, just drinking it in. The rise and fall of her chest. The way one hand was tucked under her chin like a kid hugging a stuffed toy. You thought, God, she’s beautiful even when she drools.

A few minutes later, her eyes blinked open. She yawned, slow and unguarded, then caught you staring.

“Mornin’,” she mumbled, voice raspy, smile tugging half-awake at her lips.

“Morning,” you whispered back. “You snore, by the way.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully as she shoved at your chest. “Liar.”

“Swear to God. Cutest snore I’ve ever heard.”

She rolled her eyes, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her, and she nestled back against your shoulder, sighing happily.

The shower was her idea. She stretched, groaned about feeling sore all over, then padded toward the bathroom with a mischievous, “Well? You coming, or just gonna lay there?”

Steam soon fogged the glass, water hissing over porcelain. She stood under the spray, tank top and pajamas abandoned on the tiles, her back to you as rivulets traced down her spine. You stepped in behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, hands sliding up to cup her breasts. The weight of them filled your palms perfectly, warm and slick from the water.

She tilted her head back, eyes half-shut, sighing as you kneaded her gently. “Mm. You just like an excuse to touch my boobs.”

“Guilty,” you murmured, kissing her damp shoulder.

She laughed, breathy and soft, before leaning into you.

After a while, she turned, water streaming down her hair, and pressed herself into your chest. “God, I can’t feel my legs. You wore me out, Lucas.”

You chuckled nervously, but her grin told you she was half proud of admitting it. When she shifted her hips with a wince, you noticed it—the way her thighs clenched, the soreness between her legs.

Without overthinking, you slid one hand down, fingertips brushing her groin, slow and careful. She arched into you with a gasp.

“Easy,” you whispered. “Just… helping.”

Her hands clutched your arms for balance as you massaged her gently under the water, easing the tension from her sore muscles. She let out a laugh between moans. “God, you’re ridiculous. Who massages there?”

“You’re welcome,” you teased, kissing the corner of her mouth.

When she came down from it, body loose and relaxed, she hugged you under the spray, forehead resting against yours.

After the shower, time seemed to fold in on itself. You dressed slowly, unwilling to break the spell, while she sat on the bed in her robe, towel-drying her hair, watching you with that lazy grin.

At the door, you hesitated, bouquet still in the corner, the memory of her laugh and her soft morning face carved deep into you. You leaned down for one last kiss—slow, lingering, her lips warm against yours.

And with that, you stepped back into the hallway, heart pounding, the taste of her still on your tongue, the whole damn world outside feeling brand new.