JUNO (sabrina carpenter x you)

chapter 24

Sabrina's POV

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It's raining in New York. That gentle, sweeping kind of rain that moves like a hush across the skyline, misting the penthouse windows with a soft gray veil. The sun's still trying its best behind a thick overcast sky, casting the room in that quiet, silver-blue light that makes everything feel slower—softer. Peaceful.

I stretch just slightly under the duvet, careful not to stir the warmth beside me. My arm's tucked under my head, but the rest of me is angled entirely toward her—like some gravitational pull I never stood a chance against.

Her dark hair spills across the pillow in soft, inky waves, the ends curling along her bare shoulder. That new haircut of hers? It's doing things to me. Serious things. It's shorter in the layers now, long but just short enough to tease her collarbones a bit and frame her face, just enough to make me feel dizzy every time she turns her head or tucks a piece behind her ear. Sexy in this effortless, unfair way. And somehow, it makes her look even more powerful—like she already ruled my world and just cut her hair to mark the territory.

God. She's beautiful.

I mean, she's always been beautiful. But this morning, with that tiny crease between her brows, her lips slightly parted as she breathes slow and steady—there's something reverent about it. Like the universe is whispering, look what you get to wake up next to.

I reach out without thinking. Fingertips ghost across her cheek, then down the curve of her sharp jawline. I let them linger there, then slip gently into her hair, stroking behind her ear. She shifts slightly in her sleep, nuzzles into the touch. My heart clenches.

Last night plays like a montage in my mind—flashes of premiere smiles, the electric tension between us the whole night, the incident with her pathetic excuse of an ex girlfriend, and then the moment I couldn't take it anymore. I had to have her. I had to get her out of there, claim her. Out of the crowd. Out of the lights. Just back here, with me. I'd dragged her straight from the premiere to the couch, barely waiting for the elevator to close before shoving her inside her penthouse like I'd been starving for her.

Because I was.

And now here she is. Her body curled into mine with her arm still draped over my bare waist, her skin still marked faintly where I kissed too hard and held too tight and whispered every dirty, needy thing I felt like I'd been bottling up for months. And she gave it all back to me.

I'm going to marry her.

I don't even flinch at the thought. It's not a maybe. It's a when. I've never been in love like this. Not even close. It's kind of terrifying—the depth, the clarity of it. Like I've always been standing in shallow pools, and she's the first person to throw me into the ocean and smile like, You'll swim, baby. I promise.

My phone buzzes from the nightstand, a soft, persistent hum that breaks the quiet. I fumble for it with one hand, careful not to move too much. My thumb swipes the screen.

Paloma. Of course.

I slide out a breathy, sleepy chuckle and answer quietly.

"Morning."

Paloma's voice comes through immediately, already chipper. "Okay, so what was more fun—the premiere, or the after party?"

I smirk. Glance down at my girl in the bed and run my fingers lightly along her spine. "Mm, definitely the after party."