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Sunlight streams through the sheer white curtains, the warmth of the Summer morning filling the air inside the cabin.
The bare skins of the duo lying under the blanket swim with the warming of the sun's rays pooling over the texture of their skin.
Light makes its way up to her closed eyelids and despite the exhaustion of the night before, something inside of her sleeping mind clicks.
She blinks her eyes open squinting against the light coming in from beneath the closed curtains.
Realisation slowly dawns upon her and in an instant, she gasps quickly sitting up on the bed.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck", she mutters under her breath pulling her phone from the windowsill and furiously taps on the screen to find not one but twenty notifications full of calls from her brother, Pope and John B along with frustrated texts sent to her just two hours ago.
But the notifications are not what send her into panic, it's the time on the phone screen.
9:08 am.
"Fuck", Georgie rubs a hand over her eyes and shakes her head feeling herself overcome with panic stricken nausea.
A groan from beside her freezes her into place, she reflexively pulls her end of the blanket up her chest as if he hasn't already marked every corner of her skin with his touch.
"What's wrong?", he mumbles sleepily.
She turns her head to the right looking down at him from her position, he rubs his fists over his eyes scrunching up his nose in habit.
If she wasn't so guilt ridden already, she'd think he's the most adorable person she's ever seen.
And yet, she is looking at him like her thoughts have won over the guilt swimming inside of her.
Georgie swallows tightening her grip on the blanket.
Rafe's hands fall down on the bed and his eyes catch hers blinking as he adjusts to the newfound light.
