Miss. Valentine

~9~

Auroras POV

As the early morning light filtered through the curtains, I woke up to the comforting warmth of another body beside me. For a moment, I felt disoriented, but then the events of last night came rushing back. Blake, my student, had sought refuge in my apartment after a heated argument with her family. And here we were, sharing a bed—a boundary that was both comforting and confusing.

I turned slightly to look at Blake, her face peaceful in sleep. She looked so young, so vulnerable, and my heart ached with a mixture of protectiveness and something else I couldn't quite identify. The lines between student and teacher, guardian and friend, had blurred last night, and now I was left dealing with the consequences.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Blake. I padded to the kitchen and started making breakfast, my mind replaying the moments from the night before. Blake had seemed so lost, so desperate for comfort, and I had been all too willing to provide it. But now, in the light of day, the reality of our situation weighed heavily on me.

As the aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon filled the apartment, I tried to focus on the mundane task of cooking. It was easier than facing the complexity of my emotions. But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, my thoughts kept drifting back to Blake—her gentle blue eyes, the way she had looked at me with such trust and gratitude.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear Blake approach until she was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Morning," she mumbled, her voice raspy with sleep.

"Good morning," I replied, forcing a smile. "I hope you slept well."

Blake nodded, her expression softening as she looked at me. "Yeah, I did. Thanks to you."

I turned back to the stove, feeling a flush creep up my neck. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Why don't you have a seat?"

Blake obliged, sitting at the small table by the window. As I cooked, we fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that comes from shared experiences and unspoken understanding. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an undeniable tension—a question hanging in the air that neither of us dared to voice.

When breakfast was ready, I served us both and sat across from Blake. We ate in silence for a few moments, the clink of cutlery the only sound in the room. But I could feel Blake's gaze on me, and I knew we couldn't avoid the conversation any longer.

"Aurora," she began, her voice tentative. "About last night..."

I looked up, meeting her eyes. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"You don't have to thank me," I said gently. "I'm glad I could help."

Blake's gratitude was palpable, but beneath it, I sensed an undercurrent of something deeper. I wanted to reassure her, to ease her worries, but I also needed to address the unspoken tension between us.

"Blake, I want you to know that you can always count on me," I said, my voice soft but firm. "But we need to talk about what happened last night. About us."

Blake's eyes widened slightly, and she nodded, clearly understanding the gravity of the conversation. "Yeah, I know. I just... I'm not sure where to start."

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "Last night, we crossed a line. It wasn't just about you needing a place to stay; it was about the way we connected. It felt different, and I think we both know it."

Blake looked down at her plate, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her coffee mug. "I felt it too," she admitted quietly. "But I don't know what it means. I don't want to make things weird or get you in trouble."