Just a Hair Stylist - Chris Evans story \\✔️

Chapter ten

Mumford & Sons stomped and strummed, loud and suddenly from your alarm clock. You roused

slowly, stretching your fists up by your cheeks and scratching your fingertips back through your

hair. You grumbled a curse, rolling away from Chris to hit the snooze button on the alarm. Turning

back, you nuzzled your head under the curve of his throat, face buried in the softness of his blue

Patriots hoodie and taking a deep breath to enjoy the mix of snuggle, warm Chris and his cologne.

Chris folded his arms back around your shoulders again, asking what time it was after a long yawn.

"7:30," you mumbled into his shirt.

He settled the point of his chin on top of your head. "I don't wanna get up," he said.

You snickered at the adorable petulance. "I can make some coffee," you offered. "Whip up some

breakfast?"

Chris took in a deep breath and sighed. "Don't do that...I'd skip breakfast for another half hour."

"What time is your driver coming for you?" you asked, turning your face up and out of the warmth

of his hug.

"8:30," he groaned.

"You can't have a half hour," you told him. "Weekday traffic to the airport two days before

Christmas? In LA? You need to get up."

You surprised yourself at how much of a responsible adult you were, kicking Chris Evans out of

your bed.

"Fine," he griped. "We're getting up."

He straightened out his arms in a long stretch with a small grunt at the end. You picked your head

up for him to take back his arm and you pulled your pillow under your cheek, nestling into the soft

fluff. Through a squinted open eye, you saw Chris swing his feet off the bed and check his phone

on the nightstand. You closed your eye and curled your knees up, feeling a small chill without him

to keep you warm. You felt the mattress shift and cracked open an eye to see him rising and

heading out of the room. His footsteps trailed into the hallway and disappeared as you heard the

bathroom door shut. A couple minutes later, you heard the shower turn on and you climbed under

the covers.

By the time the shower turned off, the snooze had run out. Turning down the volume, you were

snuggled in bed listening to the music when your heard the bathroom door open and Chris come

back into the room. Something nudged the mattress and a smack on your ass gave you a start,

snapping open your eyes with a small yelp. You sat up, seeing Chris laughing at you, standing

beside the bed with damp hair. You scooted back to lean into the headboard.

"What the hell?" you whined.

"Time to get up," he pointed out, sounding much more chipper after a shower.

"My flight's not till this afternoon and you told me not to make breakfast," you reminded him,

rubbing the sleep out of one eye. "Why do I have to get up?"