Story Of A Lonely Girl

Twenty Four

The next morning I woke up, once again, to the fucking rays of sun beaming through the window. Suddenly all my crankiness had washed away because I remembered this wasn’t my window, this wasn’t my house, and most importantly, this was not my bed.

I turned around and saw him peacefully dozing off right next to me. Last night we figured out that the floor was too uncomfortable for him to sleep on, so I made room for him to sleep beside me. See? We can be intelligent sometimes.

And here I am, quietly taking in all his features just like I did that morning after I kissed him drunk. It finally felt good to know what the hell he was hiding from me.

He absentmindedly had a hand on my waist and was curled up in a cute fluffy ball-like form. He was shirtless again, but this time it was because he gave me his own shirt to sleep in since I didn’t have any PJ’s and I didn’t want to bother Mrs. DeLonge by asking if I could borrow a spare one.

Oh, who am I kidding? I was dying to wear his oversized Smiths shirt (thank heavens for Morrissey).

Anyways, he was drooling and it was hella cute okay, and he smelled really good, so it wasn’t technically my fault when I decided to slightly run a hand through his hair and kiss the side of his mouth.

His eyes fluttered open at the touch and grinned immediately. Tom pulled me closer to him with the hand that was already residing on my hip. I placed one of my hands on his bare chest and fisted his blue hair with the other one. I couldn’t help thinking why I was so goddamn lucky at this precise moment. I kissed him once, twice, three times, and let go with a wet sound each time. I was vaguely aware of his morning breath which was, okay, it tasted kind of bad, but mine couldn’t taste any better than his. He placed his forehead to mine and then proceeded to open his eyes completely and cringed at the morning sunlight. We apparently forgot to pull the curtains last night.

“Not a fan of morning light, huh?” I whispered and pecked his lips. He just whined and shut his eyes tight. I pulled the bed sheets over the both of us so the sun wouldn’t be an intruder and give us a bit more of privacy.

“I don’t wanna go to school. Can we stay like this forever?” Tom mumbled with a hoarse voice between kisses. “It’s Saturday,” I giggled. It must’ve been an hour until we stopped kissing and pulled the covers off of us. Maybe we were just making up for all the times we saw each other but neither of us dweebs ever had the guts to kiss each other. I guess I could get used to waking up to him and having one-hour make-out sessions if he was up to it. Yeah, I could get used to this.

*

After washing my face in the bathroom sink I slid into my black skinny jeans I was wearing yesterday and decided to leave Tom’s shirt on for a while more. We had obviously woken up too early because nobody else was awake yet. Starving, I went downstairs to prepare breakfast.

It was around nine o’clock when I reached the kitchen and started making coffee. I stood there waiting for the coffee maker to initiate its magic and stretched my muscles in the process. As I stretched my arms in the air, I felt an arm encircle around my waist and I brought down my arms to Tom’s neck.

He started nibbling at my ear and kissing and biting my neck softly, though not leaving a bruise. I cringed at the thought of hickeys. It’s not that I don’t like them, it’s that I never got one and the thought of getting one makes me turn somewhat reddish. Like, what the hell am I supposed to do when someone tries to leave me a colorful mark on my neck? Laugh nervously? Run away? It’s not a secret that I’m new to this kissing thing.