I wasn't exactly a morning person.
Normally, I clung to my bed like it was the last warm sanctuary before an ice age, especially after a long day of magical nonsense, culinary stress, and oh, you know—accidentally spending the night with your cooking teacher-slash-girlfriend after five very intense rounds of sex.
Six. It was six. I counted. Don't judge me.
So yeah, you'd think I'd sleep until noon, right? Wrong.
I woke up early.
Not because I was refreshed. No. My brain, the traitor that it is, decided it was time to start overthinking everything from the second my eyes cracked open.
At first, I just stared at the ceiling. You know. Real normal stuff. Just me, my bedsheets, and the looming knowledge that I was officially in a relationship with a woman.
A woman who was technically my instructor and also someone who once made me peel fifteen pounds of potatoes for talking back during a lesson. Sexy.
