Playing Perfect

27. Matin

27. Matin

Morning

Finn Cauley had a restless night.

It was difficult to sleep when the girl you loved appeared on your doorstep with tear-stained cheeks at twelve in the morning. It was even more difficult to sleep when that same girl spent the night in your bed, gripping you so tightly, you were afraid to move.

When the sun rose, Finn felt as though he'd barely closed his eyes.

He'd spent all night comforting her until she fell asleep in a heap of tears and sobs, her fingers still tightly clenched around his t-shirt. He'd woken at every hiccup and haggard breath she released, worry ripping through him painfully.

It hurt to see Alice as torn up as she'd been last night.

He shifted, blinking, to find Alice Travers lying beside him, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. Her face was swollen and puffy, her lips etched into a perfect frown.

It almost felt like a dream.

He knew it was something to do with her parents. They'd been talking about their parents before the party ended and she'd shown up at his doorstep. She'd even mentioned them last night, though she'd been too distraught to explain.

The question was, what had happened? What had they done to her?

He'd feared the worst when she'd appeared. She had been freezing, her skin like ice, and her feet had been blistered. She'd run here.

Something so terrible had happened that she'd stormed out of her house and didn't stop until she was banging on his front door, tears streaming down her face. She'd sobbed for so long, he briefly wondered if he should call an ambulance or tell his parents.

But then her cries had levelled out and her hiccups turned to heavy breaths. She slept restlessly, muttering, and hiccupping and even crying in her sleep.

Despite it all, she still looked beautiful when she slept. He watched her now, his own frown mirroring her expression, and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

It was Sunday morning, meaning they didn't have to worry about school, but he knew Alice had deportment lessons on Sunday mornings, followed by etiquette classes, French tutoring, tennis coaching, and whatever else her mother felt like piling on that particular week.

So, he regretfully woke her up. He caressed her face, pressing a small kiss to her forehead, and she shifted.

"Alice," he said quietly, watching as her eyes fluttered open and strained against the light.

She blinked with realisation before bolting upright and almost knocking their heads together.

"What—" she began before her eyes widened and she looked down at herself. Her shoulders sagged with relief as she realised, she was still wearing her dress from last night.

"Morning sleeping beauty," he teased, moving to stand from the bed. He still wore his pyjamas, consisting of a t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. He shoved a hand through his blond hair, attempting to smooth it out.

Despite himself, he still felt self-conscious around Alice. How could she manage to look so beautiful when she'd just woken up and spent all night crying? He tugged at his t-shirt, hoping he looked somewhat decent.

"Was I here all night?" she asked, furrowing her brows. She ran a hand through her hair to smooth it out and rubbed at her eyes, wincing when she realised that they were still raw from all the crying