Every Girl Wants A Moon

Chapter 9: A Day Like This

The last thing I remembered was the soft hum of the movie, the warmth of Chase beside me, and the steady rise and fall of his chest. My eyelids had grown heavier with each passing minute, my body sinking deeper into the safety of the couch, lulled by the comforting scent of him—clean soap, faint cologne, and something undeniably Chase.

I had tried to fight it, tried to stay awake and savor this strange, surreal moment where he made me feel like I belonged. But exhaustion had won, and sleep had pulled me under.

When I woke, it wasn't to the flickering glow of the television or the hushed quiet of an empty room. It was to warmth.

To him.

My head was tucked against Chase's chest, his arm wrapped securely around me, his breath slow and even against my hair. The realization made my stomach flip. I was curled into him, my fingers lightly clutching the fabric of his shirt, and his hold on me was strong but gentle, like even in sleep, he was keeping me safe.

I barely breathed, afraid that any movement would break whatever fragile thing had settled between us.

But as my mind cleared from the haze of sleep, I became aware of the way his fingers—resting lightly against my back—twitched slightly, like even unconscious, he refused to let go.

And then, as if sensing I was awake, Chase let out a slow breath and shifted. His grip tightened briefly before his voice, thick with sleep, rumbled softly above me.

"Morning, sweet girl."

I swallowed hard, my heart stuttering. I should've pulled away, sat up, put some distance between us—but I didn't.

Instead, I whispered, "Morning."

His arm loosened just enough to let me move, but he didn't fully release me. His fingers trailed gently along my spine as if making sure I was real, as if making sure I was okay.

I lifted my head slightly, peeking up at him. His dark hair was slightly tousled, his sharp jawline softer in the morning light. He looked different like this—less untouchable. The man who had held me through the night.

"You slept well," he murmured.

I flushed. "I—I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

A slow, lazy smile tugged at his lips. "I didn't mind."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. "Thank you... for last night. For everything."

His gaze darkened slightly, but not in anger. Something else flickered there—something deep, something I wasn't sure I was ready to name.

"Always," he said simply.

And somehow, I believed him.

_

Chase disappeared into the kitchen while I freshened up in his bathroom, splashing cool water on my face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering warmth of waking up in his arms.

But the moment I stepped into the kitchen, my heart nearly stopped.

Chase stood at the stove, flipping pancakes onto a plate, his sleeves rolled up, his broad shoulders relaxed as he moved effortlessly around the space. The smell of fresh coffee and something sweet filled the air, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

"You're cooking?" I asked, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

He glanced over his shoulder, giving me that easy, knowing smirk. "You sound shocked, sweet girl."

"I just... I don't know. I didn't expect it."

He chuckled, reaching for a second plate and setting it down at the small dining table. "You need to eat. And I figured pancakes were a safe bet."