Leeway // Joe Mazzello

31|| "Say It One More Time"

Octavia's guide to the hell that is the English language

MIXTAPE 
/ˈmikstāp/

(n.) a compilation of favorite pieces of music, typically by different artists, recorded onto a cassette tape or other medium by an individual.
⤷Alternate definition- the ultimate gift of love

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Octavia awoke suddenly to the view of her soft white sheets and the grogginess of her room. Through squinted eyes she peered around her slightly messy space, but alas it was her room. She at least knew where she was.

She glanced over to her right to see a curled up ball of Gwils pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. The person wearing them wasn't  Gwil though. Instead, Joe laid on top of her sheets probably trying to not invade privacy. He looked so peaceful, quietly resting all curled up like a kid trying to sleep on Christmas Eve. A glint of gold sparkled through his ginger hair by the sun, allowing Octavia to take a moment to appreciate that Joes hair was, to its core, ginger. It some lighting it appeared a dark to faded brown, but during this early sunny morning each and every permed curl was as golden as newly fallen autumn leaves.

After taking a rather lengthy time to appreciate his hair, she took her time mesmerizing his features. His prominent forehead was free of furrowing brows or wrinkles from frustration. He was truly relaxed, the man had no sign of having his guard up, he was displaying true vulnerability.

She took a minute or more to admire his brow. He had a high and prominent brow. She believed that the possession of such a high brow signified a strong mind. She wondered about what thoughts went on behind that brow and secretly hoped that most of them were about her. His eyebrows matched that of his hair, thick and undeniably ginger.

Next was his nose, which was also undeniably Italian. It was long and straight with one small almost undistinguishable bump towards the middle of his nose bridge. It pointed down towards his mouth.

His mouth. Joe was a mouth breather through and through so his slightly rosey lips were parted ever so slightly. She watched him inhale and then exhale, memorizing his breathing pattern.

She almost reached out to trace her finger along his cheek bone down to his jawline when she fully let it sink in that Joe Mazzello was laying next to her.

He was IN her bed.

And so was she.

"Joe...Joe!!" She whispered loudly trying to wake him from his relaxing slender. He didn't flinch at her slight shoves or urgent voice, he just opened his eyes slowly and stretched.

"Good morning Octavia" he grumbled through his stretch then let his arms fall down back onto the bed. He didn't quite pick up on her confusion just yet.

"Why are you in my room? Why are you in my bed?? We didn't..."

"No no no, nothing like that." He assured her and then paused for a minute to determine if she remembered any of the nights events. "I carried you to your room last night. Gwil thought it would be a good idea for someone to keep an eye on you. Do you even remember anything that happened last night?"

"Well I remember... drinking," she giggled, "and talking and Ben asked me for a refill and then I... oh god... I dropped the glasses and then I... oh my god Joe I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you I was extremely drunk and I don't know-" she began profusely apologizing.