Hours passed unnoticed. The house fell into quiet slumber around them, the only sounds the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the occasional creak of wood, and their voices growing softer with fatigue. Eventually, Ali curled deeper under her blanket, eyelids heavy. She fought to keep them open, wanting to savor every second of his presence.
"You're falling asleep," Ray teased gently, his words slow and drowsy too.
"Am not," she mumbled, even as her voice slurred.
"You are. And it's okay. Sleep, Ali."
His voice wrapped around her like a lullaby, soothing, safe. She let herself drift, her last thought before surrendering to dreams being how surreal it was to hear him in person.
Ali woke to warmth on her face. Morning sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, painting her room in gold. She groaned softly, rolling over to shield her eyes, only to remember-he was here.
Her eyes snapped open, her heart giving a startled leap.
Ray was still asleep.
He lay on his side facing her, one arm bent under his head, the other resting carelessly across his stomach. His hair was a mess, sticking out at odd angles, and his lips parted slightly as he breathed slow and steady. In the quiet glow of morning, he looked softer, younger, vulnerable in a way she had never seen through a screen.
Ali's breath caught as she studied him, guilt and awe twisting together in her chest. She had no right to stare, yet she couldn't stop. The reality of him-the weight of it-was overwhelming. This wasn't a dream. He wasn't pixels on a display or a voice carried by a microphone. He was here. Real. Tangible.
Her cheeks burned, and she quickly turned away, forcing herself out of bed. The floor creaked under her weight, but Ray didn't stir. She padded quietly to the kitchen, desperate for something to distract her restless thoughts.
Coffee.
The familiar motions steadied her. Filling the kettle, setting out mugs, scooping grounds into the filter. The aroma filled the air, warm and grounding. She inhaled deeply, letting the scent settle her nerves.
She had just poured the second cup when she heard movement behind her.
"Morning," Ray's voice was rough, lower than usual, and sleep still clung to it.
Ali nearly jumped, spinning to find him leaning against the doorway. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair sticking up wildly, but somehow he still managed to look unfairly good.
"Morning," she replied, grateful her voice didn't crack. She handed him a mug. "Coffee?"
"God, yes." He accepted it with a grateful sigh, wrapping his large hands around the cup. He took a sip, closing his eyes like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. "Perfect. You really know me too well."
Ali leaned against the counter, watching him. "Three years of virtual late-night calls taught me you're basically useless without caffeine."
"Accurate," he admitted with a grin, his eyes meeting hers over the rim of the cup. Something warm flickered in his gaze, something that made her heart stumble.
She quickly looked away, pretending to fuss with the sugar jar. "Well, good thing I'm prepared."
They drank in silence for a while, the quiet not awkward but comfortable, filled only by the hum of the kettle cooling and the occasional sip.
Ray set his mug down, stretching until his shirt lifted slightly, revealing a sliver of skin at his waist. Ali's eyes darted away so fast her neck almost hurt.
"So," he said casually, his tone light, "what's the plan for today? You're the tour guide here."
Ali blinked, startled out of her spiraling thoughts. "Right. Um, I figured we'd start simple. Show you around town, grab lunch, maybe walk by the lake. Keep it easy."
"Sounds perfect." He smiled, and it was the kind of smile that reached his eyes, the kind that always left her breathless.
She clutched her mug tighter, trying to steady herself.
Whatever was building between them-whatever they were both pretending not to feel-it could wait. For now, she would focus on the simple things: coffee in the morning, laughter over breakfast, the comfort of his presence filling the spaces of her home.
