Beneath

29 GOOD MORNING

NOAH

New rules: no one says anything, does anything, or even breathes.

The coffee machine drips silently, Fox having wrapped it in an old towel to muffle the sound, standing over it, supervising. Beside him, Jed's hand guides the fridge door closed without a sound.

We're a mime's playground. I threatened to end their lives if Camila wakes up.

So, in the diffuse light of dawn, Jed opens cabinets with precision, and Fox pours Raisin Bran into a bowl without a sound. I perch on a stool at the island, turned around to watch over the girl sleeping in the living room.

She's curled into a blanket, a fluffy white cocoon. Morning sun rays filter through the blinds, casting striped shadows that dance across her face. The sight of her so fiercely vulnerable in her sleep stirs something deep in my chest.

Cam showed up last night, all flushed cheeks and worry, and her hair—fuck, her hair. A wild, beautiful mane that I'm drawn to. I love her hair.

Jed punches my arm, mimicking eating, questioning the status of breakfast like I'm his fucking mommy. I gesture to Fox's cereal. Enjoy some Bran.

Fox's shoulders shake. Jed flips him off. Fox doubles it, raising two hands.

When Jed reaches for the electric kettle, he flicks the switch. The reality of what he's done hits him, and his eyes widen. The kettle's low rumble starts.

Panic is immediate. I'm up and so is Fox, who lunges for the plug, yanking it from the wall.

Fox smacks Jed upside the head so I don't have to.

We all turn and peek into the living room. She's still sleeping, a few rogue curls shifting over her parted lips with each breath.

I mastered the art of ice when my father died. Last night, I aimed to ice Cam out, to get her to leave so she didn't see me like that. I don't understand how she did it, but she melted through everything with that soft, gentle, It's okay.

The last thing I remember is her body's warmth beneath me, her fingers in my hair, and then darkness. How do I even begin to thank her for what she did for me last night?

My girl.

Fox curses and narrowly catches a jar of sunflower butter just before it crashes to the floor.

Jed throws his hands up in exaggerated silent cheers when disaster is averted.

This isn't going to work for much longer.

Fox makes coffee and gestures towards the balcony. Good idea.

We step outside, the city slowly coming to life below us. The sun's just beginning to rise, throwing orange and pink pastels along the skyline.

Jed nods towards the living room, "When's the wedding?"

Fox hums. "They give off Winter wedding vibes, wouldn't you say Jed?"

Jed clutches his mug, looking into the sky. "The cosmos says late summer, potentially early fall. A theme of dark oranges and deep reds."

I cross my arms, leaning a hip against the cold rail. "Are you done?"

"We haven't even discussed the flower arrangements yet."

Jed chimes in, "Music shall be a classical quartet."

"Quintet, obviously," Fox says, scowling at Jed. "Don't be ridiculous."

My response is flat. "Thrilled you both find this entertaining."