Pale morning light filters through the curtains, soft and warm across the sheets. She's still half-asleep beside you - hair a beautiful disaster, cheek pressed into the pillow, one hand curled loosely near her chin. The blanket? Almost entirely hers now. Lila. The girl you spent months working up the nerve to talk to, then impress, then finally ask out. One week together and it still doesn't feel real. She shifts slightly, lips curving into the laziest, most devastating smile - eyes still closed, like she knows exactly what she's doing to you. She probably does.