Ray's pov
I knew something was off the second she walked in.
No heels. No eyeliner. No thousand-yard death glare like she's ready to chew up the world and spit it out.
Instead: vanilla oat latte in hand, hoodie swallowing her frame, and dark circles under her eyes that her usual armor of sarcasm and smudged kohl would've covered.
She didn't sleep.
And I damn well know why.
Sky Valen—the chaos, the hurricane, the girl who bites and barks and never, ever yields—just folds silently into the seat beside me. Doesn't complain that I'm in her spot again. Doesn't roll her eyes. Doesn't even say my name.
She just… sinks.
Like this is safe.
Like I'm safe.
And then, without a word, she kicks off her shoes and tucks her knees up in the seat, her bare leg curling under her. Her thigh brushes mine and stays there. I freeze—not from nerves, but because I don't want to spook her, like she might realize she's leaning into me and pull away.
But she doesn't.
Instead, she takes one sip of that latte (aka liquid sugar masquerading as coffee), sighs like the world is too heavy, and then—lays her head on my shoulder.
Soft. Like we've done this a hundred times before. Like I'm not the guy who drives her insane. Like we didn't just nearly destroy her dorm bed less than twelve hours ago.
Her hair spills over my chest in silky waves. It smells like vanilla and her shampoo. The strands tickle my collarbone, and her breath fans warm over the edge of my hoodie.
No one's speaking. Professor Greene is lecturing about criminal liability, but even she stops mid-sentence to glance at us.
And Sky?
She just breathes.
Eyes closed. Expression calm. One arm curled into her hoodie pocket like she's hugging herself in her sleep. Her leg slowly drapes across mine without a thought, her calf hooking behind my ankle like she belongs here.
And me?
I'm sitting there, in the middle of class, absolutely ruined.
I shift a little so she's more comfortable, and she unconsciously leans further into me, lips brushing my jawline for the briefest second before settling again near my neck.
I look around.
People are definitely staring.
Someone takes a photo. I glare so hard it's a miracle their phone doesn't combust.
But I don't move.
She doesn't sleep easily. Hell, I don't think Sky sleeps at all—she just burns.
And now she's asleep on me.
I move my hand carefully and rest it over her thigh, not in a way that says mine—though, God, she is—but in a way that says safe. I give the lightest squeeze, and she murmurs something soft in her sleep.
Something that sounds a whole lot like "Ray."
I close my eyes.
Just for a second.
Because the girl who made my life chaos is curled into me like I'm the only place she trusts. And maybe she'll hate herself for this after class. Maybe she'll punch my arm and call me an arrogant bastard. Maybe she'll pretend none of this happened.
But right now?
Right now, I don't care.
She's sleeping on my shoulder. Her leg's tangled with mine. Her lips are parted in the softest sigh.
And every sharp, violent part of me has gone absolutely still.
Because Sky Valen—this girl made of knives and cigarettes and terrifyingly fragile trust—just let me hold her like she's something soft.
And I swear to God…
I'd burn the world to keep her here.