(Michelle Lui's POV)
I woke up smiling.
That alone should've been suspicious.
I never woke up smiling. Well, I did sometimes. But not this much.
And normally, I woke up groaning, starving, and routinely cursing my alarm clock.
But today?
Sunlight filtered through my curtains like some cheesy cinematic glow, and my chest felt warm in that soft, fizzy way that made me bury my face into my pillow and grin like an idiot.
Last night replayed in pieces:
Steven's voice — steady but nervous.
His eyes — warm but searching.
His confession — careful, honest, real.
My answer — not a yes, but not even close to a no.
Our messages before bed — short, shy, grounding.
And now…
I was floating.
Embarrassingly floating.
I forced myself up and padded to my vanity.
My reflection looked offensively lovestruck.
Glossy eyes.
Soft blush.
Rested skin.
Disgusting.
Adorable.
