Dominique was deep in the kind of sleep that felt like falling through clouds, warm, weightless, completely unaware of the world outside his blankets.
His hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed, his mouth slightly open. He had been dreaming about something pleasant, something involving chocolate and possibly a beach, when the sound shattered everything.
His phone was ringing and shrieking and vibrating, dancing across his nightstand like it was possessed. The screen lit up the dark room in harsh blue light, and Dom groaned, pulling his pillow over his head.
It stopped.
He exhaled, sinking back into the warmth.
It started again.
"God damn it," he muttered, his voice thick and muffled by the pillow.
