Out of My League

Chapter 29 (Izzy)

My Christmas wish comes true when I roll over and see Noah Parker sleeping softly next to me, his chest rising and falling and eyelashes fluttering. 

As quietly as I can, I roll onto my side and watch him sleep, watch him breathe, watch this simple, peaceful moment as long as I possibly can. 

Which, unfortunately, doesn't last as long as I'd hoped. 

"Take a picture," he whispers, voice still holding onto the wisps of sleepiness, "It'll last longer." 

I laugh, "How'd you know I was staring?" 

I hadn't even realized he'd opened his eyes. 

"I could feel somebody watching me," he whispers, clearing his throat to say, his voice normal again, "I was hoping it was you." 

He still hadn't opened his eyes until that moment when he opens his eyes, rolls onto his side and faces me completely, his eyes tender and smile soft. 

"Merry Christmas, Bella," he says, closing the space between us to press a gentle kiss to my mouth, "I've got everything I could ever want." 

"Oh, good," I mock, "Because I couldn't find anything to get you for Christmas so I made the executive decision that I was enough." 

"I hope you're joking," he laughs, rolling once again to his back and throwing the blanket over his eyes, "Or I'm ending things." 

I don't say anything at first, prompting him to throw the blanket off of his face and say, "You know I'm joking, right? I'm never ending things." 

"I would hope not," I reply with a grin, laughing as he throws the blanket back across his face and huffs a laugh. 

Twenty minutes later, we're in the living room, tearing through our exchanged gifts. 

When we're finished, to my utter sadness, disgust, and embarrassment, I've received double the gifts that I'd given. 

It's terrible. 

Again, that voice in my head mocks, He deserves somebody better. 

It's not that I had run out of money to get him things or had run out of space on my credit card. 

I'd run out of ideas. 

That's worse. 

I am a terrible girlfriend. 

"Noah," I say, guilt churning in my stomach, "All of these gifts." 

They're building up around me - new clothes and shoes and my own cross necklace. 

"Yeah?" He asks, obviously apprehensive. 

"You're a great gift buyer," I say, trying to break the news to him gently, "But I can't keep all of these." 

"Can't keep them?" He asks, "What do you mean?" 

"I can't keep them," I reply with a shrug, "Maybe the necklace so I can give yours back to you and maybe this shirt, but I don't need the rest of it. I gave you half of the stuff you gave me." 

"So?" 

"So, that's not fair," I reply, "You're a great gift buyer and I'm not." 

"It's okay, Bella, really," he stands, adjusting something, presumably his phone, in his back pocket, "I don't mind." 

"I do." 

"It's okay," he genuinely doesn't look upset and maybe I would've believed him and moved past the whole situation if he hadn't added, quietly, "You've never really had a real Christmas, so I wanted to make this one special."