MJ and Sabina are more confident with their bodies than Andy is.

It's Friday night, and Sabina and MJ both managed to convince Andy to come to the club with them—for the first time again in almost a year—to celebrate Sabina's last few nights in South Bend before she leaves for three months.

It's not really Andy's scene. The noise, the music, the dancing, and the drinks—it's just not her, and she'd rather curl up in her blankets and watch rom-coms than to go out and get drunk.

But...she's been blowing her roommates off about this for months, and it's all Sabina's asking before she goes back home. So, Andy sucks it up, showers, does her light makeup, and stands in front of her closet with her hands on her hips.

"Nothing for Catholic school, Andy, please," Sabina says, in nothing but lingerie, as she leans closer to the mirror to finish applying her makeup. "We're going to the club, alright?"

Andy blows a strand of her hair away from her face. "Club, club, club," she mutters under her breath. "No jeans?"

"No way," the older argues immediately, twisting around to look at her. She gives Andy a pointed look. "Usually I wouldn't care as long as you look gorgeous—which you are, when you wore jeans the last time—but, since tonight is special, no jeans."

"Oh!" Andy exclaims, a flash of blush pink catching her eye at the back. "What about this?"

The dress is actually rose gold, with a low neckline decent enough for Andy, and flowers embroidered over the cloth. Its straps are thin, and they criss-cross at the back, leaving the rest of her skin bare, and the skirt ends just mid-thigh.

"Perfect," Sabina says with an approving nod. "I mean, it's still a little too innocent for me, but perfect for you. Are you sure you don't want to borrow something of mine?"

Andy's mouth curls up in a sheepish smile as she holds the dress to her chest. "No offense, Sab, but your style isn't...my style."

Sabina grins wolfishly. "None taken. Ah, Andy, ever the nun."

Does Rhysand think so as well? "Not a nun," Andy mumbles, head bowing as she heads to the bathroom to change, just in time for MJ to step out.

The ginger opted for a burgundy, lace bralette, with a neckline that dipped further down—just short of her belly button—tucked underneath a white, leather skirt. Around her neck, between her breasts, is a gold necklace with a moon charm.

MJ twirls around with her palms open. "How do I look?"

"Exactly like my style," Sabina answers, whistling as she faces her. "Love the bralette, girl. If we weren't friends, I'd totally bang you."

"Thanks," MJ responds brightly, switching her gaze to Andy.

"Gorgeous, as always," Andy says honestly. She's smiling, but her heart sinks a little. She wishes she has MJ's confidence. Grace. Beauty.

Her eyes soften. "You are too, bub. Come on, get dressed."

And Andy...tries not to look at herself in the mirror for too long. Sabina and MJ are beautiful. They have bodies for models—Sabina is a model—and they could be wearing garbage bags and still be able to pull them off.

Andy is...she's plain. Nothing exciting.

"A nun," Andy says with a sigh, slipping the dress on. "Does Rhys think he's dating a nun? I run away when he tries to kiss me. Blushes when he touches me. I really am practically a nun."

When she steps back into the room, MJ's straightening her curls on her bed, and Sabina's already put on her outfit of choice: a black jumpsuit with mesh fabric that hugs her curves, and like MJ's, with a neckline that dips down to her stomach.

Andy's jaw drops. "Your—"

"Boobs are on display, I know," Sabina tells her cheekily. "Except for my nipples. Got to save something for the imagination, right?"

Andy can't...imagine herself wearing something so revealing. But then again, she doesn't have Sabina's body. "Right."

"Come here," MJ says, pulling her arm. Andy goes and sits beside her on the bed. "You look amazing, bub. Thanks for coming with us."

Andy sends her a small smile. "Sure. Sab's leaving in two days, and we won't be seeing her in three months."

"When are you leaving?" Sabina asks her, rummaging through her purses.

"Saturday. I have to make up for the days I missed at work."

"And spend enough time with Rhysand," MJ teases quietly from behind her, "before she goes home to visit her dad."

"Stop," Andy mumbles, playing with her fingers.

"Speaking of Rhysand," Sabina starts, finally deciding on a small, black shoulder bag. She grabs her phone, wallet, and keys. "Why don't you ask him to come with us, kid? We haven't met him, you know."

Andy bites her lip and suddenly finds the bedsheets interesting. "Uh, sure. You guys have been busy and all, and he's working, so..." Not exactly a lie. "But, um, I thought you wanted it to be girls' night."

"We really want to meet him, Andy," MJ says, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If he's fine with it, of course."

"And ready to be interrogated," Sabina adds with a sweet smile.

Andy sighs. "He doesn't talk much."

"I'll make him talk," Sabina promises, handing Andy her phone.

Her roommates look at her expectantly, so Andy types her message with a deep exhale. Hi. :) Are you free?

Not a minute passes before his reply comes. Just working. Why?

I...well, my roommates were wondering if you wanted to come with us. To the club. Tonight. To meet them.

Andy swallows the lump in her throat and sends another message quickly after that, fingers flying on the keyboard. You don't have to! If you're working. I know you're stressed about that song you're producing, so, yeah. Sorry, it was a silly suggestion, you don't have to come.

A minute comes and goes. Andy's hands are shaking.

Okay. Where?

Andy lets out a noise similar to that of a dying creature. "He said yes."

MJ squeals loudly and puts down the straightener, spinning Andy around by the shoulders. "Great! I'm so excited. Is he handsome?"

Very. "Yes," Andy whispers, shy.

"Come on then!" Sabina snaps, hauling the two to their feet. "Slip on your pumps, ladies. Dance floor's waiting."

The club is packed with loud music and dirty dancing when they arrive, and it seems that both MJ and Sabina are regulars, not that Andy is surprised—the bartender recognizes her roommates immediately. Sabina hovers around the bar and orders their drinks while MJ and Andy go and find a booth.

The redhead pulls Andy's arm excitedly as she leads, and Andy follows her clumsily, a muttered apology on her lips every time she and MJ push past the crowding bodies.

There's a vacant booth near the dance floor that catches MJ's eye, and she runs towards it—the purple velvet sofa curls around a small, rectangular table, and it's big enough for four. Six, even.

MJ takes a seat and crosses her legs, pulling Andy down next to her. Andy's hands are sweating, and her eyes are squinting against the neon lights.

She's...feeling a little nervous. About Rhys coming.

Sabina reappears with their drinks. "Sex on the Beach for you," she announces loudly over the music, handing a glass of red-orange to Andy. "Whiskey Sour for you," she tells MJ, a dangerous glint in her gaze as MJ takes it with a grin. "And Negroni for me."

"Se—what?" Andy stutters, an incredulous look passing over her face as she surveys the drink. "Um, I'm not sure if I want to drink—"

MJ ignores her and clinks their glasses together. "Cheers!"

"Cheers," Sabina agrees, giving Andy a pointed look.

"Fine," Andy says with a sigh, bringing the straw to her lips and taking a sip.

It's not pleasant, but it's not...entirely disgusting either. Andy scrunches her nose and puts it down.

MJ stands up and pulls Sabina along with her, drinks still in hand. "Let's go dance, babe. Andy, you coming?"

"Later," Andy says with a small smile, leaning back against the sofa.

Sabina narrows her eyes at her. "Later. Promise?"

The youngest nods. "Promise. Go, have fun."

"Grab us when Rhysand's here!" MJ yells, and then she and Sabina are brushing past people and in the middle of the dance floor, bringing the alcohol with them.

Andy takes another sip—a longer one this time, and studies the dance floor, keeping her eyes on her roommates. Their bodies are moving in time with the beats—no thinking—and MJ's free hand is gripping Sabina's, and they dance around each other in confident and fluid moves. Even those nearby—both boys and girls—move a bit to give the two some space, and some stop dancing to watch them with slacked jaws.

Not a surprise. Andy smiles as she watches them. She's glad they're having fun. They haven't gotten the chance to do this a lot this past semester.

A sudden buzzing in her purse tears Andy's eyes away from her friends. She puts the drink down and opens the text message from Rhysand. Where are you?

Her pulse quickens as she looks down at herself. She's certain she's never shown this much skin before, much less around Rhysand. Still, there's nothing she can do now—now that he's here. Andy inhales deeply, drinks again in an attempt to calm her nerves, and types her reply. Booth, left of the dance floor!

And it doesn't take long for her to spot him, and her breath catches in her throat. Rhysand is—he's beautiful. She knows he is. But now, in a black button-down, with the first two buttons undone, tucked in black, skinny jeans, Andy thinks that he's...alluring. Charming beyond words, incredibly handsome with his beautiful mess of a hair parted in the middle—yet, quietly powerful and dark. As he's walking, one hand in his pocket and the other curled around a shot glass, heads turn in his direction but he keeps his gaze on her, and Andy's heartbeat picks up again as she tries to hold his stare.

Out of my league, Andy thinks sadly, aware and conscious of all the pretty girls surrounding the place. Completely out of my league.

Rhysand closes the distance between them, and as much as Andy wants to look away—cower away from the intensity of his eyes—she doesn't. The hands on her lap ball themselves into fists, and her nails bite against her palm.

Rhysand sits down next to her, his dangling earrings shining, and drawls, in a voice deep and low, "Sunshine."

"Hey," Andy greets back, sounding a little breathless that it's embarrassing, and gives him a small smile. "Thank you for coming."

He brushes the back of his hand against hers, and Andy knows it's the most contact he's going to have with her—for as long as they're in public. His eyes fleet around the place, and they stay on the dance floor as he taps his fingers on his glass.

Unconsciously, Andy pulls down the hem of her dress lower to her knees. "Um, Rhys."

His thumb strokes her fingers gently as he looks at her again.

Andy swallows. Hard. "Um, Sabina and MJ are a little...protective. Of me. I'm sorry in advance."

Rhysand's gaze darkens. Rakes his eyes down from her own eyes, to her lips—where it stays there for too long—and to her neck. There's a heat rising to her cheeks as she watches him stare—down to the curve of her waist, her thigh where the skirt ends, and finally, to the bare skin of her legs.

Andy squirms under the attention and clears her throat. Her skin feels as if it's on fire. "And MJ just got out of a really bad breakup."

Rhysand downs his drink in one go, hanging his head back. He puts down the glass and looks at Andy again. He opens his mouth to speak, but Andy's roommates come into view behind him.

"Alright," Sabina says, and it's lower than her usual tone. Less friendlier and more threatening. She has her arm around MJ's neck, and MJ's is around the older's waist, and their fingers are interlocked. MJ's eyes are bright as she studies the two men, while Sabina's are narrowed. "Rhysand, right?"

Andy swallows the lump in her throat. She's a little confused with Sabina's suddenly cold behavior—is she trying to scare Rhysand?

Her boyfriend slowly turns his head, and Andy can't read his expression—his face is carefully blank, but he's also staring back at Sabina with equal fire.

"Yes," is his quiet response.

Sabina narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side, studying him.

Andy clears her throat and steps in. "Um, Sab, this is Rhysand. Harton. You already knew that, right. Um, Rhys, this is Sabina Kyle, roommate number one, and Mary Jane Chaucer, roommate number two."

"Just MJ is fine," the redhead says with a sweet smile, stepping inside the booth to take a seat on Andy's opposite side.

Sabina follows MJ and settles on the seat beside her, but she doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand.

Rhysand doesn't break his stare, either.

Andy's mouth turns dry as she thinks of something to say.

Thankfully, MJ seems to notice the rising tension and claps her hands together. "So! Nice to finally meet you, Rhysand."

Finally, Rhysand mutters, "Thank you for the invite."

"What are your intentions with Andy? Got any secrets you're hiding? Planning on—I don't know—lying to her in the future, maybe...?"

Andy groans quietly. "MJ."

Rhysand finally switches his gaze to MJ. "No," he says, and it's calm and low. Cool and collected.

"Any ex-girlfriends?" Sabina pipes up, tilting her head to the side. "Ex-partners?"

"One," is Rhysand's short response, and he doesn't offer anything more.

Andy bites her lip.

"Did you graduate high school?" MJ asks, masking the question with the friendliness in her face. "College? What was your major?"

Rhysand tilts his head to the side.

Andy chuckles nervously and places her palm on Rhysand's thigh. "Actually, Rhys—"

"Yes to both," her boyfriend answers flatly. "Music production."

"Wow," Sabina says with a grin. "That's...cute. And did you make a career out of it?"

"Sab," Andy warns quietly, furrowing her eyebrows. Is her roommate mocking him?

Rhysand's jaw ticks—an indication that he's starting to get pissed. Andy's heart sinks in her chest. "Yes."

"Is it enough to take care of Andy?"

God. Panic rises in Andy's chest. She's afraid to look at Rhysand. "Sab," she warns quietly, "it's not like we're getting married—"

Her roommate ignores her. "Let's hear one of your songs, then," Sabina suggests, not taking her eyes off Rhysand and leaning back against the sofa. She waves her hand. "See if it's any good."

"Sabina," Andy cuts in sharply, furrowing her eyebrows as she shakes her head.

Sabina's eyes widen a bit at Andy's cold tone.

Instant regret floods Andy's system. "I'm sorry," she says quietly, disheartened. She bows her head.

Rhysand's fingers come closer; dancing along her own hand. Andy shoots him a glance, and his composure is the same—only a little more pissed off than before. "Search me up," Rhysand tells Sabina, and it's a voice that's filled with quiet and simmering anger. "You'll find the shit you need."

MJ takes a moment to study him. "Where are you from again?"

"Ashemark. Sanford." He turns to Andy, gaze smoldering. "Smoke?"

Andy feels awful, and Rhysand knows.

"Did you just call her Sanford?" Sabina questions flatly.

"Excuse me?" MJ squeaks incredulously, pinning Andy to her seat. "A smoke? You?"

"Not me," Andy answers, standing up and smoothing her dress down. "You guys can go dance, I'll join you later. Maybe."

Rhysand immediately follows her. He keeps his body close to her back, and his hand ghosts around the curve of her hip.

Outside, Andy keeps her distance as they stand against the alleyway. Rhysand leans against the brick wall and slips his pack outside of his pocket.

And she may be upset, but she manages to raise her eyebrow at the stick he's placing between his teeth.

"I said I was going for a smoke," he mutters, clenching his jaw as he starts to light the cigarette. "And I fucking need one."

An apology is at the tip of Andy's tongue, but—she's tired. She purses her lips and asks him quietly, "Can we just go home?"

Rhysand inhales and as always, turns his head to the side and blows it out. "That what you want?"

"Yes."

"I'll finish this," Rhysand says, holding the stick between his fingers as he looks at her again. Andy can't read him, and it's—it stings. "Say bye to your friends."

Andy's throat closes up at his tone as she stalks off and heads back inside.

MJ and Sabina are still at the booth when she comes back, and Jenner's back with their drinks. Sabina stands up and reaches for her. "Andy, I'm sorry, but—"

Andy doesn't look at her as she grabs her purse. "I'm sorry, too. I didn't mean to snap at you, and I'm sorry about—all of this."

MJ stands as well. There's regret written in her face. "Are you leaving?"

"Yeah," she whispers, looking at her friends. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your night. Rhysand and I will head home."

Her roommates don't try to stop her when she turns around and leaves, heading to the parking lot where Rhysand is waiting.

He opens the passenger door for her, and the ride home is quiet.

Andy doesn't know what's wrong with them, and she doesn't want to feel—to feel upset anymore, so she whispers, "I'm sorry." She covers her face with her hands as she exhales shakily. Her breath trembles. "I am so sorry. I told you, they're protective, and they were—they weren't more welcoming, and it's weird, because they usually are, and they were so excited to meet you—"

"I don't give a shit," Rhysand says, looking ahead of him. "They don't like me, I don't like them. End of story."

"Not end of story," Andy counters, feeling her heart sink once more. "I really—I was worried this was going to happen, and I really wanted you guys to get along. They're my best friends, you know?"

Rhysand scoffs. "Okay."

Andy doesn't know why it comes out, but she says—"I really wish you also tried harder. For me."

"I don't try for anyone, Sanford," Rhysand bites out. "They saw me before they came over. At the dance floor."

"What?"

Rhysand doesn't answer.

Andy sinks against her seat as realization settles in. It explains Sabina's cold attitude as soon as she walks up to the booth. Did she really think Rhysand wasn't worth her time—Andy's time—just from looking at him?

And Andy—Andy doesn't know what to say to that. Still, what comes out of her mouth is, "You could've proved them wrong."

"I didn't have to prove shit."

"Then I thought you didn't care what other people thought," Andy argues, voice rising. "No one has a say in this relationship other than you and I, Rhysand. Why are you so worked up about what Sabina and MJ think?"

"Because they're fucking important to you," Rhysand snaps, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel as he finally twists his head to look at her. "I'm not good with words, sunshine, surely you know that by now, and maybe you also should've known that—back there? I was already trying. If I had my way, I would've already left."

Andy slumps against her seat once more.

Sabina and MJ already decided for themselves that they didn't trust—even like him—way before they came over to talk. It breaks her heart.

The rest of the ride is quiet. When they arrive, Rhysand throws his keys on the counter.

Andy faces him. "Can I stay here? For the night?"

His expression doesn't change. "You don't have to ask."

"Yes, I do," Andy counters quietly, climbing up the staircase.

Rhysand doesn't follow her, and Andy heads to the bathroom to freshen up. She takes off all her makeup and jewelry, and washes her face so thoroughly the skin starts to redden. She brushes her teeth, and stripping off her clothes, she hops in the shower and turns on the water.

When she's done, there's a black shirt and sweatpants waiting on top of the toilet seat. Andy puts them on.

In his bedroom, it's silent and empty. There's water running on the other side of the hallway, and she figures it's Rhysand showering in Jenner's room.

Carefully, she slips in the covers of Rhysand's bed and curls into a ball.

She doesn't have to wait long before Rhysand is padding into the room. Andy doesn't sit up, but she raises her head to look at him.

Rhysand sits on the edge of the bed and meets her gaze.

"Hi," Andy whispers.

"Think we need to talk," he mutters, crossing the distance between them. The bed dips with his weight when he sits on its edge, close to where Andy is seated. "Feeling better?"

"A bit."

Rhysand looks at her. "Sunshine. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to—"

"I'm sorry," Rhysand repeats firmly, and Andy sees the genuinity in his eyes. "Look. I could've handled it better. You're right."

"I'm sorry about MJ and Sabina," Andy says in return, looking down at her fingers. "They're great people. It's just...I'm younger than them, and they know about Luke, so they were worried, and I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing on their account."

"—but it wasn't fair of them to judge you before getting to know you. I'm really sorry."

Rhysand exhales deeply. "It wouldn't have mattered to me before," he says, gently taking her hand. His own is large, and warm, and his long fingers fit perfectly against hers. "I didn't...give a shit. But, like I said—"

"They're important to me," Andy fills in quietly, squeezing his hand. "And I'm important to you. At least, I hope I am."

Rhysand's mouth curls into a half-smile. "I'll be...civil. With them. The next time."

"And they will be to you. I'll make sure of it."

Rhysand nods. "Let's go to sleep."

Now that they're okay, Andy's heart feels a little lighter—and with that, comes the thoughts she didn't think of earlier when she asked to stay over.

She has never stayed over. Only accidentally falling asleep on the couch of Rhys's studio. And they've certainly never shared a bed before.

Andy's palms start sweating as Rhysand stands to turn off the light.

"I'll sleep in the studio if that's what it takes to keep your mind quiet."

Andy groans. "How do you always seem to know what I'm thinking?"

"Not that hard to figure out," he drawls, coming closer to the bed. He cages Andy against the headboard with his arms as he kneels over her, and says, "You freak out over the littlest things."

"They're not little," Andy mumbles, pushing her back against the headboard. Her eyes focus on the wall behind Rhysand's head. "Thank you. For the, um, clothes. By the way."

Rhysand asks lowly, "Studio or bed?"

Andy gulps. "Well, it's your bed."

"That's not what I asked, baby."

Andy's heart jumps. Her gaze finds his, and he's staring at her with so much intensity that her face heats up. She clears her throat. "Um. Bed."

Rhysand's smile widens, and his dimple shows.

Andy pushes him away and lies down, pulling the covers up to her head. "Go to sleep, you flirt."

He lies down beside her. Close, but not enough to touch.

And Andy's grateful, because she doesn't know what she'd do if—

A high-pitched squeal slips out of Andy's mouth as Rhysand's arm pulls her body to his—her back to his front, and tangles their legs together. Rhysand's lips ghost along the back of her neck, and his hand is resting over the soft curve of her stomach.

"Jeepers," Andy whispers, shutting her eyes tightly. Her heart is racing.

"Calm down," Rhysand tells her, and she can't see his face, but she knows he's trying not to laugh, and his breath tickles Andy's neck and sends shivers down her spine.

"Sorry."

"S'cute," Rhysand murmurs.

Andy's stiff. She's so stiff and tense that she's hugging her arms to her chest—doesn't know what to do with them. Her breaths come in short pants, and her pulse is still racing, and she's completely and utterly aware of the rise and fall of Rhysand's chest, the weight of his legs tangled with hers, his smell, and everything Rhysand, Rhysand, Rhysand.

"Sanford. Relax," Rhysand says, laughing a little. His hand take one of her arms, and he lays them on her waist, interlacing their fingers together. "Deep breaths."

"Stop laughing at me," Andy whines, embarrassed. She tucks her face deeper into the pillow.

"It's just...I still can't believe that—"

"What? That I'm this inexperienced?"

"I didn't say that," Rhysand answers, tone dropping the amusement as he raises his body to look at her. There's a frown on his face. "Hey. Sunshine."

Andy refuses to open her eyes. "What?"

"I don't care about that. You know that, right?"

No. She doesn't know that. "Yeah."

"Liar," Rhysand mutters, flicking her forehead.

Andy opens her eyes in shock. "You—"

"I was going to say," he continues, lowering his body over hers, and Andy closes her mouth and stares at him with wide eyes. "Before you interrupted me, that I still can't believe that I'm the first to make you feel like this."

Andy bites her lip. "Oh. So...you don't think you're dating a nun?"

Rhysand's eyebrow raises. "What?"

Andy realizes how ridiculous her question sounded. She covers her face. "I'm so sorry. No, it's just—I was just asking because...I don't know. Sabina called me a nun earlier because of what I was wearing and I thought, oh, does Rhysand think I'm a nun, too? Because I run away from him every time he tries to kiss me, and when he's near me, I turn into a freaking tomato-face, and I have zero experience with dating—Rhys."

He's not listening. His gaze is glued to her mouth as he leans closer. Rhysand only hums in response.

"Rhys," Andy says again, placing her hands on his chest. Her eyes are wide.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Andy's eyes follow the movement—she can hear her heart ringing against her ears.

"Relax," he whispers, dipping his head—and Andy barely has time to prepare herself before his lips brush hers. Once. Twice. A little pressure—barely there.

Andy's mind shuts down. For the first time in a long time, she lets herself feel.

Then Rhysand is pushing forward, hand gripping her waist, and Andy cups his cheeks—fingers tenderly touching the edges of his face, pulling him closer.

He kisses her deep and slow, as if feeling out every inch of what he can taste, and Andy doesn't know what she's doing, but she tilts her head further and follows his lead—and she feels it, feels him—feels the fireworks exploding in her heart.

Then there's a hint of wet—a flicker of tongue against her bottom lip, and Andy pulls back with wide eyes, startled.

"Sorry," Rhysand says, although he doesn't look or sound sorry, and he's breathless, and his lips are red. "Got carried away."

Then he kisses her again—his mouth soft and warm against her own.

Rhysand doesn't try to go any further than what he did before, and it's sweeter this time—but Andy wants it. Wants to be brave for once.

She takes Rhysand's bottom lip between her own, and sucks at it. Grazes it with her teeth.

Rhysand's breath catches, a tiny sound of surprise at the back of his throat, and then he's letting his mouth fall open—presses his tongue against Andy's lips.

Andy's gasping as her lips part—and he's slipping his tongue inside her mouth—and God—he tastes intoxicating—and Andy wants more, more.

Her fingers fist against Rhysand's shirt. "Rhys," she mumbles into his lips, in between deep, open-mouthed kisses, "Rhys, Rhys, Rhys."

"Baby," Rhysand murmurs, pressing one, deep kiss into her lips. "Sunshine."

And that—she whimpers into his mouth—kisses him again.

When they finally break apart, Rhysand's eyes are wild. Dark. Andy's panting, breathless, and her skin feels hot. In embarrassment, she doesn't know where to look—so she shuts her eyes and covers her face.

"I thought you didn't know what you were doing," Rhysand rasps.

Andy feels winded. "I don't. Sorry, I didn't mean to—throw myself at you."

"I liked it," Rhysand says, and Andy opens one eye to see his mouth curving into a smirk. "You didn't run. For the first time in months."

Andy opens the other eye. "I'm sorry for running."

Gently, he takes her wrists with one hand and pulls them down from her face. He stares at her. "You looked beautiful."

Andy blinks. "Huh?"

"In your dress," Rhysand clarifies lowly. "Earlier."

Andy bites her lip. "Thank you," she says quietly.

"And I don't think I'm dating a nun," he adds, amused.

Andy hits him on the chest, laughing. "Let's go to sleep."

Rhysand rolls off of her and pulls her against him again. "Your smile does things to me, sunshine. Goodnight."

Her heart hasn't calmed down yet. If being with Rhysand feels this way—feels exhilarating and overwhelming and absolutely wonderful—then she wonders if it ever will.

*

the outfits andy, mj, and sabina wore look like the pins here!! (check out the description): https://pin.it/3dvwd3fin24gxj