Lesley woke to warmth.
Not the vague, impersonal kind that came from thick blankets or a heated room, but the kind that breathed-slow, steady, unmistakably human. A gentle weight rested against her, solid and reassuring, as if it belonged there. Her lashes fluttered open as she drifted toward consciousness, the world still hazy, wrapped in the half-dream of sleep.
For a moment, she didn't question it.
She simply lay there, suspended in the softness of it all, aware only of the rise and fall of another body against her own, the quiet intimacy of shared space.
Then she shifted.
An arm tightened around her waist, not possessive, not urgent-just instinctive.
Lesley stilled, her breath catching as the realization settled in.
Slowly, carefully, she turned her head to the side-and there she was.
Denisse. Sound asleep. Peaceful. Infuriatingly close.
Her arms were wrapped around Lesley like she belonged there, one leg thrown over hers with reckless confidence. Denisse's face was relaxed in sleep, all sharp edges softened by rest. Her pointed nose cast a faint shadow in the morning light, and her lips-pink, slightly parted-rose and fell with every quiet breath.
Lesley swallowed.
She hadn't meant to look this closely. She really hadn't. But her gaze lingered anyway, traitorous and curious. Denisse was beautiful in a way that felt unfair-unguarded, unaware, devastatingly human.
Almost without thinking, Lesley lifted a hand and gently tucked a stray strand of hair away from Denisse's face. The motion was slow, careful, reverent.
A small smile escaped her lips before she could stop it.
You were always breathtaking, she thought.
The realization hit her like cold water.
Lesley froze.
Her smile vanished. She sucked in a sharp breath and shook her head once, as if that alone could knock the thought loose. "Absolutely not," she muttered under her breath. She carefully pried Denisse's arms off her, inch by inch, bracing herself every time Denisse shifted or sighed.
Miraculously, Denisse didn't wake.
Lesley slid out of bed and stood there for a moment, steadying herself. Then she padded toward the bathroom and shut the door quietly behind her.
The shower roared to life, steam filling the room almost instantly. Warm water cascaded down her shoulders, loosening tension she hadn't realized she was carrying.
She reached for the soap.
And winced.
A sharp, very specific pain flared at her backside.
"What?!" Lesley yelped, twisting slightly as if that might make sense of it.
Then the memories came rushing back.
2:24 a.m.
Lesley lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling, eyes dry, mind blank, her phone glowing faintly on the bedside table like it was judging her.
Denisse snored.
Not loudly. Not obnoxiously. Just... persistently. A soft, rhythmic sound that had no business being this effective at ruining a life.
Lesley turned her head slowly. Very slowly. "Oh my God, Denisse," she whispered into the darkness. "Are you purring?"
The snoring answered her.
She grabbed her pillow and shoved it over her ears, pressing it down like that might muffle the betrayal. For a glorious half-second, there was silence.
Then-snore.
Lesley groaned. "Unbelievable."
Denisse shifted, rolling closer to the center of the bed, claiming territory with the confidence of someone who had never once slept next to another human being. Lesley, in turn, scooted toward the edge, clinging to her shrinking strip of mattress like a survivor on a lifeboat.
She lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling again. Counting breaths. Counting regrets. Mentally firing someone for this and then remembering she was the one who approved the room booking.
Then-
Smack.
A flying hand caught her square in the face, pain blooming instantly.
"Ouch! What the-" Lesley yelped, shooting upright.
Denisse, meanwhile, slept on. Peaceful. Serene. Completely unbothered. An absolute menace in pajamas.
Lesley stared at her, stunned. "Did you just-" she whispered furiously. "Did you just hit me in your sleep?"
She grabbed Denisse's arm and shoved it away.
No response.
Denisse let out a soft snore, as if to mock her.
The night dragged on.
3:55 a.m.
Lesley was now practically horizontal with the edge of the bed. Denisse had claimed the rest like a conquering general, sprawled out in full, unashamed domination.
"I should've let you take the couch," Lesley muttered bitterly. "I had no idea you slept like this. This is a crime."
As if summoned by the complaint, Denisse stretched-long, slow, and completely unnecessary-her foot nudging Lesley's leg.
There was nowhere left to go.
Lesley tipped over the edge and fell, landing butt-first on the carpet with a dull, humiliating thud.
"Ouch! Oh my God, Denisse!" she hissed, blinking rapidly as pain shot straight up her spine.
She stayed there for a moment, sprawled on the floor in stunned silence, one hand rubbing her sore backside like that might somehow rewind time. "I cannot believe this is how I die," she muttered. "Not in a blaze of glory. Just... pushed off a bed by a sleeping menace."
Above her, Denisse snored.
Eventually, dignity-what little remained-returned. Lesley pushed herself up, wincing, and marched back to the bed. She shoved Denisse firmly toward her side, reclaiming her stolen territory with a triumphant huff.
"There," she whispered. "Justice."
She flopped back onto the mattress, arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling in defiance.
Minutes later-against all logic, common sense, and self-respect-exhaustion won.
The soft buzz of a notification from her phone nearby snapped her back to the present. Lesley remained under the shower, letting the water pound against her skin as she slowly rubbed soap along her arms.
She huffed out a laugh despite herself.
"She definitely did that on purpose," she muttered. "How can one person move that much in their sleep? Is that her revenge? Is this a strategy?"
She finished her shower, dressed quickly, and stood before the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her-tired eyes, damp hair, and a grin that didn't quite match her words.
"I know I said I'd stop," she said softly to her reflection. "Sorry, Athena. But give me this last payback."
She opened the bathroom door with exaggerated care. Denisse was still asleep, sprawled across the bed like nothing in the world could disturb her.
Lesley gathered her things quietly, moving on instinct now. At the door, she paused and glanced back once more.
"You didn't give me a proper night's sleep," she whispered. "So now I won't give you a proper way home."
The door closed with a soft click.
Minutes later, Lesley stepped into the parking garage, slid into her sports car, and started the engine.
"Good luck on your way back, Ms. Moore," she said aloud, smiling to herself as if Denisse could hear her.
Then she drove off, leaving Denisse alone in the hotel room-still snoring, still unaware, and very much about to have a long morning.