Quiet Little French Girl. [h.s.]

Whipped Cream; Shots.

The lads slept at mine last night in preparation for my birthday. It's obvious to say that I was dreading it, you never know what they have hiding up their sleeves, and unfortunately for me - I was the last one to wake up this morning.

Yes, I know. Never a good idea, I tell myself yet again and roll my eyes. Earlier, I was disturbed from my sleep by echoed murmurs and badly disguised tittering, my body feels completely tense; I know they've done something, but what? Have they drawn on me again, or put shaving foam in one hand before using a light feathery material to wake me with...the pranking possibilities for the lads are endless and normally I wouldn't think much of it - however today is my birthday, and I can't say I'm too happy about waking up last; but I suppose that's my own fault, I must have been really tired.

After several more minutes of peace I finally find the courage to open my eyes and face the three childish adults in front of me; contrary to my suspicions, they are all stood smiling mischievously with their hands clasped behind their back. It just looks as if I have something on my face, I suppose that's not too bad, at least it isn't the water incident of last week. Phew!

"Morning mate." Niall smiles at me, his voice sounding a lot deeper than I'm used to.

"Morning lads." I sigh after rubbing the sleep from the corners of my eyes, enabling me to see my friends better and feel less groggy. "Have I got something on my face then?" My blunt question hopefully shows them that I mean business, let's get this prank over with so I can start my birthday.

"Nope," Liam pops his 'p' and hands me a small mirror - why on earth would he be carrying a mirror? My subconscious resounds, because they're planning something.

I glance into the mirror and true to their words my face is clear from any pen or drawings they may have caused. This is odd, very strange and unfamiliar; is it because it's my birthday or are they just messing with me, a separate voice in my head is convinced it's the latter. Maybe they've trashed the place?

Within a split second I catch a movement in the mirror and am too slow to react; unable to turn in time and find the culprit, I receive a soft smack to the face - whipped cream dripping from my neck down onto my chest as I try to fathom the events within the last few minutes. The lads have bursted with laughter and through my squinted cream filled eyes I can just about notice them keeling over, their hands holding onto the side of my bed to keep themselves steady.

I wipe the white fluff from my eyes and glance around the room. I stop on a pair of sapphire blue eyes, her hand containing a disheveled pie crust and remnants of whipped cream all over her hand. The lads must have gotten to her this morning especially, to help pull this little stunt off - they probably knew that I'd never suspect her considering this, it's so out of Odette's character.

"So it was you!" I grab her arm swiftly, my reflexes a lot quicker than before as I clasp her in a tight hold beneath me; she has no room to escape and it becomes my opportune moment to get her back - my lips crash into hers without hesitation, Odette's breathy laugh erupting as I smother whipped cream all over her face. Judging by her content spirit and wide smile she seems unphased by the public display of affection, although it wouldn't matter too much considering the lads seemed to have slipped out of the room during our embrace. She stares at me and the reality of our affectionate actions take their toll on her mind, her smile drops and a blush begins to rise on her cheeks. I wonder if I can snap her out of it... "Do I have something on my face?"

Her eyes change from a distant gloss and she thinks over my words, those ocean blue beauties staring at my lips. She smiles lovingly at my words, almost knowing my comical intention. It's nice waking up and having her here with me in bed - the woman I love, shit. I need to stop thinking that when I'm with her... One of these days my brain won't filter and it'll end up just slipping out. God, imagine that, I wouldn't be able to bare the embarrassment - she would probably hate me, ugh, I need to be more careful.