And in the center of the frame, the sleeping guy.
“He just mumbled something about a ‘tax rebate’ and rolled over.”
Two figures were on the oversized sectional couch. One was a guy with a sleeve of tattoos and a confident smirk—Marcus, Leo’s roommate. The other was a new girl, the one everyone had called “Miami” because she’d just transferred from Coral Gables. She had dark hair and an electric smile.
He was a still life in the middle of a renaissance painting. At one point, Marcus’s foot nudged Leo’s ribs. Leo grunted, turned his head the other way, and resumed his snoring. At another, a throw pillow landed directly on his face. He didn't move.