If You Only Knew

Chapter 7

I wake up the next morning to the warmth of Louis still nestled into my side, his body pressed against mine in a way that feels impossibly comforting. The world outside is still quiet, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in the simple joy of being close to him. I can hear his steady breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest, and despite the flurry of thoughts racing through my mind, it all seems to slow down just for a moment.

The sunlight peeks through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across Louis's face, highlighting the contours of his features—his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, the mess of curls that fall around his forehead. I find myself just staring, mesmerized by the way the light dances on his skin, the way he looks so peaceful when he's asleep. There's a softness to him in this moment that's rare, and it makes my heart flutter in a way I'm not entirely sure I can explain.

The butterflies that have been flitting around in my stomach since yesterday are back with a vengeance. They're everywhere, wild and restless, and I can't seem to focus on anything other than the fact that Louis is here, next to me. His warmth is like an anchor, but it's also the very thing that makes me feel like I'm floating.

But then I glance at the clock on the nightstand and my heart skips a beat. Shit. He needs to be at the field in an hour. His game. I feel a wave of panic rise up inside me. He can't be late, not for this. Not for something so important to him.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I don't want to wake him too harshly, so I lean closer and whisper softly in his ear, "Lou, time to wake up." My voice is quiet, gentle, but it still manages to carry through the morning silence.

I watch as his body stirs beside me, and then his eyes flutter open slowly, the sleep still clinging to him. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, and the sight is so impossibly cute that my heart stutters for a second. He looks like something straight out of a dream, all soft and warm with his hair tousled from sleep, his expression still hazy with the remnants of his dreams.

"Morning, Curly," Louis says, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes meeting mine with that familiar playful glint, even if he's still half-asleep.

"Morning, Lou," I reply, my voice a little breathless, still caught in the haze of his presence. "You need to get up. You need to head to your game soon."

He groans softly, his eyes closing again for just a second, clearly not ready to face the day. But I know he has to. He has to get up and get ready.

"You're like my own personal alarm clock," he says with a lazy smile, still half-lying in bed, his voice warm with gratitude. "Thanks, Hazza."

"It's one of my many talents," I tease, trying to mask the nervous energy building inside me. I can't help but smile at him, feeling a flicker of pride that I'm the one who gets to be here for moments like this.

Louis laughs softly at my joke, but it's a tired laugh, one that quickly turns into a yawn. He stretches his arms above his head, his muscles flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt, and I feel a small flutter deep in my chest at the sight.

"Alright, alright," he mutters, pushing himself up from the bed with a groan. "You're right, I'll be late if I don't get moving."

I watch as he heads to the bathroom, the soft padding of his feet on the floor the only sound filling the room. As soon as he disappears from view, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, a smile tugging at my lips despite the rush of emotions that still feel like they're spiraling inside me.

I'm here. With Louis. And somehow, in this quiet, ordinary moment, everything feels exactly right. Even though the chaos of life always seems just on the horizon, right now, it's just us. And for a second, that's all that matters.