Page 36 of More than Fiction (Misty Springs #1)

Sophia

I jolted awake, disoriented. For a moment, my brain scrambled to process where I was. All I knew was that this definitely wasn’t my apartment.

Then, like puzzle pieces falling into place, it all came rushing back. The gala. Landon’s awful mother. Corbin offering me the job. The dance. The lies Landon told me unfolding. My dress getting stuck. The feel of Corbin’s body against mine—and the crushing disappointment when he left so abruptly.

The bed beneath me was impossibly soft, the kind you sink into like a cloud. The sheets were silky smooth, and the duvet was perfectly weighted, cocooning me in luxurious comfort.

The room was pitch black. I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, remembering I’d placed the dead thing on a wireless charger before collapsing into bed.

Thankfully, I texted my friends before it died to let them know I wasn’t coming back home last night.

My hand grasped the tiny rectangle, and I tapped the power button. The ancient thing flickered to life, dim and pale in the darkness, and I saw that it was already morning.

A steady hum of vibrations came through our group text as their undoubtedly curious responses trickled in.

Devyn: Sorry, what?! Not coming home. Please don’t tell me you’re staying with that creep!

Lana: Sophia wouldn’t do that. Right?

Brent: I just looked it up, there wasn’t a single flight coming from JFK to Misty Springs. I think he tricked you .

Trevor: What if Soph is actually hogtied in the back of Landon’s trunk somewhere in Mexico and we’re texting Landon right now? Soph, if it’s really you, send a pic. Preferably a shirtless one!

I chuckled and stretched my arms above my head. My movement must have triggered something, because a low hum filled the room, and the windows began to reveal themselves as the dark gray shades slowly lifted.

Sunlight poured in, flooding the room with warm, orange light. I squinted against it, taking in my surroundings.

I glanced down at myself. A baggy white shirt hung loose off one shoulder, paired with boxer shorts that sagged low on my hips.

My mind went to Corbin.

Was he gone all night?

Or did he come back and choose to sleep alone?

I wasn’t sure which one of those scenarios sat more comfortably with me.

After calming my friends down, letting them know I was safe in New York and not hog-tied in the back of Landon’s trunk—the details of where or who I stayed with kept vague—I decided to forage for some caffeine and hopefully food in this strange and extravagant land.

I tiptoed down the stairs, the soft pads of my feet barely making a sound. As soon as I stepped into the main living area, the shades began their slow, deliberate ascent—just like upstairs. Sunlight spilled into the room, painting Corbin’s magnificent apartment in warm hues.

So much for sneaking around in the dark.

I found a glass and filled it with water, downing it in one long, greedy gulp before refilling it.

Hydration, step one.

I opened the refrigerator, sighing when I saw only a leftover Chinese food container and various bottled drinks—not a single scrap of edible food in sight.

I went in search of coffee instead. My temples were already starting to ache from caffeine withdrawals. I found a contraption that looked more like the control panel of a spaceship than a coffee maker—stainless steel, glowing buttons, and not a single word of guidance.

Seriously, what was wrong with Mr. Coffee? One button, that’s it, and you’re on your way to caffeinated bliss.

A loud ding from the elevator door echoed in the silent apartment.

My heart picked up speed, and I scrambled to adjust my shirt, trying to tame my wild hair—preparing myself to see Corbin again in the light of day.

Corbin stalked inside, his eyes immediately finding me. The look on his face tugged at my frantic heart. He looked defeated, tired, exhausted. Whatever situation he just left didn’t look like it was easy on him.

Any resentment I’d been holding onto from him leaving last night dissipated as I studied him. His rimmed eyes, hunched shoulders, disheveled hair, and a look on his face told me he needed me.

Not someone to kiss, not an employee, not a one-night stand.

He needed a friend.