Summer woke slowly, blinking against the hazy golden light spilling through her curtains. The rain had passed sometime in the night, leaving the world outside fresh and muted. For a few seconds she floated in that warm, drowsy space between sleep and waking — until she shifted slightly and felt the weight of another body beside her. Her heart jolted into her throat.

  Turning her head, she found Andy, sprawled easily on his back, one arm flung loosely toward her side of the bed. His hair was a soft mess against the pillow, and without the guarded brightness of his waking self, he looked almost boyish. His mouth was slightly parted, his breathing slow and even. For a breathless, disbelieving moment, Summer just stared at him.

  Everything about last night rushed back in a confused, shimmering tumble — the tears, the words, the kisses, the way he had looked at her like she was wanted. The way he had said this was new. The way he had stayed.

  Summer pulled the covers up to her chin, half hiding beneath them, unsure if moving would break whatever delicate spell this was. 'He's still here.' The thought hit her like a second heartbeat. She tucked herself a little closer to him, holding her breath as if afraid even that might wake him.

  Sunday morning unfurled slowly around them, tender and strange and full of hope she didn't dare name yet.

  Andy shifted, his brow furrowing slightly as the dream tried to hold him — rain misting down in endless sheets, the heavy scent of wet earth in the air. In the dream he was chasing something, someone, a figure slipping just ahead of him, haloed in soft light. Her hair streamed behind her like a banner of fire, her laugh distant and silver-bright, the only warmth in the gray, endless mist.

  He caught a glimpse of her face just before the dream began to dissolve — eyes full of stubbornness and fear and a kind of fragile, radiant hope — and then the world tilted, the mist fading into soft morning light. Andy woke with a faint gasp, disoriented, blinking against the real warmth of the room.

  For a long, dazed moment he didn't know where he was. Then he turned his head slightly and saw Summer, tucked under the covers beside him, her face half-buried in the pillow, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes. Relief flooded him so powerfully he nearly laughed aloud. She was real. Not a dream, not a memory spun up by loneliness. Real. "Hey," he said softly, his voice still rough from sleep.

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  Summer flushed and gave him a shy, crinkled little smile that made his heart stutter. Andy smiled back helplessly, pushing a hand through his hair.

  "Morning," he murmured. "You're... still here." As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he sounded almost as surprised as he felt. Andy's smile deepened into something warm and crooked, the kind of smile that could wreck a person if they weren't careful.

  "That's funny," Summer said, soft but somehow wry, "I was thinking the same thing about you. And it's my apartment."

  Andy laughed — a real, low laugh that rumbled in his chest — and shifted closer under the covers, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her properly. "Fair point," he said, grinning. "Guess that makes me the unexpected guest, huh?"

  Summer tucked her chin down shyly, but she didn't pull away. Andy brushed a piece of her hair off her forehead with the barest touch of his fingers, almost like he didn't want to wake her further, didn't want to break the strange, fragile magic still clinging to them.

  "You're not kicking me out yet," he teased softly, a question hidden under the words.

  Summer shook her head — a tiny, fierce little shake — and bit her lip.

  Andy let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good," he whispered, almost reverently, and bent to kiss her brow.

  Summer tipped her face up toward him, dazed by the gentleness in Andy's kiss. She didn't know how to respond, not really — but Andy seemed to know. He slid his hand down the line of her side, slow and reassuring, fingers brushing the hem of her nightshirt. His touch was so light it made her shiver all over again.

  "You're so warm," he murmured, voice rough and slow. "Don't you think it's a shame to waste a morning like this?"

  Summer gave a tiny breathless laugh, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and Andy smiled against her temple. He kissed a slow line down the side of her face, pausing at the corner of her mouth, and when she turned toward him, he caught her lips properly — still soft from sleep, still unsure. His hand slid up under the nightshirt, exploring lazily, taking his time with every inch of her skin like he had all the hours in the world.

  Summer melted again almost without thinking, arching closer with a quiet, broken sound. Andy hummed low in his chest, pleased, and coaxed her easily onto her back, following her down. His weight was careful, his hands tender. "Let me take care of you," he whispered against her mouth, as he drew her nightshirt higher and higher. "Just like this. Nothing else to do. No one else to be."

  Summer clutched at him, overwhelmed again but too warm, too wanted to hide from it. She nodded wordlessly, heart hammering against his chest, and Andy smiled before kissing her again, slow and deep, coaxing her open to him with a patience that made her tremble.