Nothing To Prove

7 I Can't Handle You!

Samantha

On Sunday at 7 in the morning, I dragged my mattress to the living room.

One of the top iconic photos for couples was waking up to a beautiful view. Well, the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room had the most gorgeous jacaranda tree. It stretched across the communal backyard, and this particular windy morning, it was raining purple petals!

The day was packed back-to-back with photoshoots, which I'd planned according to the trend graphs and content charts on my bedroom wall. Or as Ashton liked to call it: Sam's lunatic murder conspiracy board.

I had bronzed my body to look sun-kissed, fixed my phone on a tripod, arranged a breakfast-in-bed, and tucked the white sheets under my armpits to give the illusion of being naked (in reality, I was in a white tube top and pajama shorts).

Ashton was twenty minutes late. Then he finally moseyed in⁠, his electrocuted hair a lopsided bird's nest⁠, and squinted his eyes open.

"Why the hell do you look like a shiny cheese puff?"

"WHAT?" I looked at my chest with drugstore tanning lotion. "Is it really that bad?"

"You look like you rolled yourself in a bag of Doritos. No. You look like Donald Trump. No, wait." Still squinting, he tilted his head and snapped his fingers with satisfied finality. "You look like you work for Willy Wonka."

"I look like an Oompa-Loompa?!"

"A sexy Oompa-Loompa, if that helps." He smirked and pulled his track jacket's zipper⁠.

Oh my goodness, he was shirtless underneath. I uh, adjusted the breakfast tray which needed... no adjusting.

"Alright, what are we doing first?" He groaned, making his way down on the mattress.

"Um, I was thinking cuddling." I rotated the cereal bowl. Okay, look at him. LOOK AT HIM, dumb ass, this was your idea.

Ashton was picking an eye booger, then yawned with his mouth as big as possible. "Yeah, okay."

"Oh! Can we look at the poses I sent you? My phone is taking pictures every three seconds, so we don't have to worry. Let's just try to mimic what's online."

"Sure." He entered his passcode right in front of me like he didn't care that I could see it. He had a mean puffy face as he scrolled through our messages. "This picture?"

"Yup, perfect." I hardly even looked, I don't know why I asked to see it. Act casual, come on. "Okay, let's do it. On your back, please."

His chuckle held awkwardness as he lied on his back and folded one arm behind his back.

"This is normal, this is totally normal stuff..." I sang to myself as I covered his track pants with the sheets. "See, now you look naked like me."

"Awesome..."

"Here I go, lying on your chest..."

"Do you have to narrate everything?"

"Cuddling your chest as we speak. There goes my leg—oop, too high. Too low. Okay. Uh-huh. I'm like a koala bear, huh? Hold on."

Ashton cleared his throat and coughed as I tried to settle in. He had such a stiff chest, it was like sleeping on a wooden board. I climbed a little higher until my head was under his chin and rested my cheek on a soft cushion by his armpit.

"Oh, wow!" I rubbed my face into it. "This part is cozy..."

"Why are you squirming so much?"

"Oh. Sorry." I giggled, covering my face from the camera. "Okay, let's focus. We're at work."