Agnes
The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting golden stripes across the hotel room floor. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the haze of sleep, but a faint noise drew my attention. Snoring.
I turned my head toward the source of the noise, which was near the couch, and there he was—Elijah, sprawled across the sofa, one arm hanging over the edge and a leg bent at an angle that looked anything but comfortable. His hair was a tousled mess, sticking up in wild directions, and his mouth was hanging wide open as he snored.
It was hard not to laugh at his current state. Elijah was usually so calm and collected that I never expected to see him like this.
But it was also cute—unexpectedly, undeniably cute.
For a moment, I stayed there, watching the steady ris
