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    Summary

    Her heart wants to erupt through her throat, and she audibly gulps, trying to keep her gaze from the only place it wants to go. Thank fuck his eyes are so hypnotic; she can get lost in them as she stammers for English syllables. “Y-Yes, Dr. Solo?”

    “Seriously, Rey.” Is he blushing? Surely not. “I’ve known you all year, call me Ben.”

    “Ben,” she mumbles. It tastes like delicious sacrilege.

    “I actually think you’re in my bed.”

    “Huh?”

    “The couch. I was going to sleep there. Remember?”

    Rey clutches the blanket to her collarbone, hoping the light fabric is tented loosely enough to cover her breasts. Fuck, why does he have to be so distractingly hot? “No, it’s all right. I don’t mind, Professor.”

    Ben," he insists firmly. “And I won’t be able to sleep at all knowing I’m comfy in a bed while you’re sleeping on that thing.”

    A bedsharing fic with fluff, angst, comfort, and a HEA.

    Language:
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