iris (sally face)

decode

Waking up in Sal's bed for the second time doesn't come as much of a shock to me as it did the first- the key difference being that I wasn't violently hung over this time, I guess. But the lack of a warm body curled up next to mine is enough to cause me to stir.

The room is dim, and instead of cool, sleepy daylight filtering in through the blinds, the watery grey shadows produced by a heavy onslaught of rain cast the room in an eerie monochrome. I push myself into a sitting position, stretching to pop my back.

Sal isn't in the room. I'm not sure whether to be nervous or relieved.

As if in response to my thoughts, the bedroom door is pushed open, and I jump slightly, gripping the covers in my fists. I relax when Sal slides into the room, still in his pajamas, hair disheveled from sleep. I pat my hands around my head absently, attempting to tame whatever bed head I definitely have.

Sal pushes the door closed behind him with both palms. "So. There is an issue."

"What's up?" I ask, a yawn interrupting my speech.

He scratches his neck. "Dad's awake."

Oh. My eyes widen, and I glance around for a clock. "What time is it?"

"Too early." Sal stretches, a yawn stifling behind his mask as his eyes narrow. "I'm not sure how long he's going to be in the living room, probably a while cause it's Sunday. So we can just wait it out until the coast is clear-"

"I can't!" I hiss, as tempting as the thought of having to be cozily holed up in Sal's room during a rainstorm sounds to me. "I have to get home before my aunt realizes I'm missing. I don't think the Ashley excuse will work a second night in a row."

"Oh. Shit." Sal rakes a hand through his hair, his gaze jumping from his closed door to me and then back again like he's watching a tennis match.

He saunters over to the bed to sit, slumping against the wall at the foot of the bed, and I curl my legs up to my chest to give him room, my cheeks burning for some reason. I don't know if he's going to mention last night, or if I'm going to have to be the one to do it. Or if he even thinks anything of it at all. Would I be embarassing for bringing it up? Is it as big of a deal for him as it is for me?

Sal glances sideways at me through his mask, then stretches out, laying down until the back of his head bumps against my knees. He rests against my legs, folding his hands on his chest with a contented sigh, and my breath hitches in my throat.

I watch with bated breath as he digs his fingers into the right eyehole of his mask and lets out a groan. "Note to self, don't sleep without taking out your eye."

"Oh, Sal," I reach for his face and tilt it towards me. "Why didn't you take it out? Does it hurt?"

He chuckles, but doesn't shy away from me. "Well, you know. You looked so comfy, I didn't wanna move. And it doesn't hurt, really- it just gets pretty sore. And eye-boogery. Not a good look."

I giggle despite myself. "Well, I'll make sure you take it out next time, no matter how sleepy I am. I'm sick of you having to sacrifice your comfort for me."

"Next time, huh?" Sal rolls onto his stomach, turning to face me and resting his elbows ontop of my knees. A grin is dancing in his eyes. "So you plan on making this a regular occurence?"