Good Morning

Twenty-eighth Morning

There are a lot of things that are hard for her to admit. It usually involves the way her hands shake and her knees buckle in the wake of something or someone she couldn't quite grasp yet. She's had the privilege of not having to admit anything more than once in her life. Maybe she was lucky.

Maybe that was the only thing she could really think of when she woke up to his blue, blue, impossibly blue eyes that were still a little puffy with sleep. The sun was high, but there wasn't a chance that they were the only ones awake. She had a feeling everyone was probably up. Everyone was probably already doing their share of work or training or eating, and she could not possibly understand how her day was going to get any worse.

"Good morning," he rasps.

He's close, closer than the night before, and the only thing she can focus on is the way his nose grazes the bridge of her own and the feel of his thumb against her cheek. It's a dangerous thing, this closeness. It makes her heart stutter in her chest and the air escape her lungs, and the way her eyes flicker down to his mouth.

"Hi," she exhales, "Morning."

He's smiling at her, and it's all a little too much.

"I'm sorry," she chokes out, "I didn't mean to—"

"You didn't mean to?" His brows raise a little higher.

"I'm just saying that this wasn't what I planned to do or happen." She's trying her hardest not to trip over her words, and it's hard when her hand is trapped between his side and the mattress and his fingers are still playing with strands of her hair.

"So what was the plan?"

Her mind goes blank, and she hates that this is where her thoughts are. She was supposed to leave, remember? She was supposed to get up and make a move.

"I don't know," she says and hopes her honesty doesn't scare him away.

"It's not like I have any idea either. I didn't plan on waking up to the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my bed."

She feels her cheeks flare, and suddenly she wants nothing more than to cover her face with her free hand. He's not giving her a chance though.

"I didn't think that was an option."

He laughs, and it's a full, warm sound that vibrates all the way down to her toes. "And what option was there, Nya?"

She wants to tell him. She wants him to know exactly what her brain thinks when his eyes crinkle and his smile stretches a little wider. It's not like it was ever a secret. She wasn't the type to be discreet about her feelings. But her feelings were the problem here. They were a mess, and a muddled thing, and there was no way she could sort them out with him looking at her the way he did.

"I don't know."

"That's the second time you've said that," he points out.

"I'm sorry." She can't think of anything else to say.

"I was joking," he clarifies. "But really, Nya. We've both known what's been happening."

"What?" She wants him to be clearer. She needs it.

"We're not stupid, and we're not blind."

She tries to process his words and the way his gaze is a little more serious than the playful expression he had just worn a few seconds prior. It's all a little too real, and her heart is threatening to burst.

"So we've established that you're smart."

"We've established a lot of things."

"Like what?" she asks him, her voice a little breathier than she anticipated.