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Layla

I wake up in Dalton’s bed around 5:00 in the morning, and he is no longer there, of course. I have no idea where his studio is located in the tangle of hallways on the third floor. It’s the only place I assume he’d be right now. 

The house is quiet as I pad downstairs after checking on my aunt and Bailey, both of which are still asleep. I go through my normal morning routine. I’m wearing nothing but a pair of boy shorts and one of Dalton’s shirts. I smell like him, which makes me think of him, and thinking of him makes me wonder if I’m falling in too deep with a man I barely know. 

I make a pot of coffee and pour myself a mug before stepping out onto the back porch to watch the sky turn from a dark gray to a pale silver, but as the morning shadows stretch across the grass, memories of last night come flooding back to the forefront of my mind. 

I clutch my mug so tight my knuckles turn