The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the sound of soft, even breathing beside me. The second was the mess sprawled across my bed. Layla had managed to twist herself into some impossible position, one leg flung over the pillow divider, her arm dangling off the edge of the bed.
Her oversized T-shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of her waist. Her hair, as usual, was an untamed mess, framing her face like a dark halo.
I sighed, propping myself up on one elbow to get a better look. How someone could sleep so deeply and so messily was beyond me. Her face was peaceful, her lips slightly parted, and for a moment, I found myself studying the way her features softened in sleep.
She looks completely at ease, I thought. Completely unbothered. Meanwhile, I'd barely slept. Between Layla's teasing and the weight of unspoken thoughts swirling in my head, I'd spent most of the night staring at the ceiling.
