Tackling the Canvas

Chapter 12 [pt1]

Nora

Today was Saturday, and I had absolutely no intention of leaving my bed anytime soon. The warmth of the sheets wrapped around me, the soft glow of early morning light filtering through the window, and the faint chill in the air made staying under the covers even more appealing. Not to mention the fact that Owen was clinging to me like his life depended on it.

After the events of yesterday, he had decided to stay over, and I couldn't say I minded. His presence was comforting, even though my bed wasn't exactly the largest, and at this point, Owen was occupying about 80% of the mattress. His arm was draped over my waist, his head tucked into the crook of my neck as if he couldn't get close enough. Every time I shifted, even slightly, he'd unconsciously pull me back into him, his grip tightening as if I'd try to escape.

I smiled softly to myself, feeling the weight of his body against mine. There was something incredibly peaceful about the moment, his slow, even breaths brushing against the back of my neck.

I tried to adjust a little, finding a more comfortable position without disturbing him, but it was useless. His leg was sprawled over mine, and the rest of his body was practically pressing me against the edge of the bed. Not that I minded all that much, but I definitely wasn't going anywhere anytime soon—not with Owen holding on like that.

I reached for my phone, managing to grab it with the limited movement I had, thanks to Owen's grip. With my arm stretched awkwardly, I started scrolling through my socials, catching up on notifications. As I absentmindedly flicked my thumb across the screen, something caught my attention. "Ethan's birthday is next Wednesday?" I murmured to myself, noting the reminder that had popped up.

A low groan escaped from behind me, and Owen stirred. His arm tightened around my waist as he shifted, trying to snatch my phone away. "Stop looking at your phone and sleep..." he mumbled against my neck, his voice husky and thick with sleep. His lips brushed against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

I couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of his breath on me as he buried his face further into the crook of my neck. "It's almost ten, you know?" I whispered, though I knew it wouldn't change anything. He wasn't letting me go that easily.

"Don't care," he grumbled, half-asleep, pulling me closer as if that were even possible. "Stay here. You're warm."

I chuckled softly and turned off my phone, giving in to his demand, my thumb brushing his arm in lazy strokes. "Alright, alright. But we're going to have to think of something for Ethan's birthday. You know he'll want to celebrate."

Owen just hummed in response, his lips pressing lazily against my shoulder. "We'll plan later... Now, sleep."

I shook my head with a smile, putting my phone down on the nightstand and letting my eyes flutter shut once more. For now, I could enjoy this moment a little longer. Ethan's birthday could wait.

____

By the time the clock hit eleven, I was already getting dressed. The freezing cold air was creeping in through the window, and my slick nightwear was no match for it. I shivered as I pulled on a pair of thick socks, glancing over at Owen, who was still dead to the world, curled up under the blankets in what had to be his fourth deep sleep cycle.

I tried to be quiet, but in my rush, I accidentally knocked my sketchbook off the desk. It hit the floor with a soft thud, but that was enough to startle Owen awake. He jolted upright, eyes wide and slightly confused as if he wasn't entirely sure where he was.

"Sorry," I mumbled, bending down to grab the sketchbook. He blinked a few times, rubbing his face with his hand and letting out a long groggy sigh.

He flopped back onto the pillow, letting out a dramatic groan. "What time is it?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep.