Scott lay flat on his back as he stared at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. His eyes were half-open, his mouth slightly curved like he wanted to smile… yet the stress in his face turned it into the expression of a war veteran lost in deep trauma
Maybe that face came from the fact he wasn't alone.
He was pinned.
Emma was draped over his right side like a satisfied, smug octopus… one with curves, warm breath on his neck, and absolutely no respect for personal space.
Kara clung to his left like she was trying to fuse with him so she could die less of embarrassment.
Gwen rested beside Emma, frowning like she was one bad dream away from punching someone in her sleep.
And Beca occupied the far end as she scrolled through her phone with half-lidded eyes.
They were all in one bed.
One bed.
Scott sighed again.
A long, tortured sigh that came from his soul.
He tried to lift a hand to wipe his face—no luck.
