Chapter 4: Interlude—Day Four
Nate woke exactly thirty seconds before his alarm was due to go off—he’d trained himself to be a morning person, given bakery opening times—and spent five of those seconds wondering where the hell he’d spent the night and who with, and then his brain caught up and he lay in place grinning at the ceiling for a while.
Marcus’s ceiling. Marcus’s room. Marcus’s bed. Where the man himself had shifted slightly away in the night but then flung an arm and a leg out, such that they’d landed across Nate, holding on.
Nate, noticing this—looking at bed-rumpled dark hair and the line of that elegant throat and visible collarbone where that shirt was too large—felt his heart do a flip or two. Helpless adoration. Hopelessly fond. He could’ve stayed right here for hours, w
