His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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........................................ 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, the three of us have been shuffling in socked feet through the apartment.
Jed's been opening and closing cabinets with a precision that borders on comical. Fox pours Raisin Bran into a bowl, the grains falling like soft rain, barely a sound.
I'm perched 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 stark against her dark hair. The first morning sun rays filter through the blinds, casting striped shadows that dance across her face and the mess of dark curls that fall all around. Curls I rarely see. Curls I love.
I mean, curls I really, really like.
The sight of her, so vulnerable, so fiercely beautiful in her sleep, stirs something deep in my chest.
First thing I did this morning after waking was call Paige. She didn't answer, thank fuck, so I left a message. Clean. Simple. "Don't talk to me again until you realize how fucking horrible you've been to my girl. Or never talk to me again. I don't care."
Ten minutes later, my home rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And honestly, I was supposed to answer, but I didn't. I've been too easy going. Can deserves so much better than me accepting whatever apology Paige is trying to give, real or not.
I don't care anymore. Paige isn't important in my life. I hope she fixes her shit, and that's that.
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.
Jed flips me off, then flips Fox off, who gives him two middle fingers back, his mouth full of cereal.
Jed reaches for the electric kettle. The moment he flicks the switch, the reality of what he's done hits him, and his eyes widen in horror. 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.
The kettle goes silent.
Sorry, Jed mouths.
Fox smacks Jed upside the head so I don't have to.
We all turn and peak into the living room. She's still sleeping, a few rouge curls shifting over her parted lips with each breath.
