The Fake Girlfriend

Chapter 32- A Chance

I'm going to be completely honest with you guys. I never thought I would be doing this. But the endless support, feelings and comments that have just hit these chapters of Nick and Rayne's story has warmed my heart in so many ways. I'm so incredibly grateful for every single person that clicked read on this. It's been awhile and I know I've probably lost a lot of readers... A lot... But I'm ready to continue this. I don't want to give this up. So please enjoy.

With my eyes closed I could still see the whiteness of the sun through my throbbing eyelids. I was acutely aware of the pulsing vein in my forehead and a bruising in my neck just below my ear.

I really didn't want to wake up.

Easing my eyes open like rusty doors, I took in the the unfamiliar wallpaper by the window. And the unfamiliar window. And the unfamiliar carpet. And now I was suddenly very aware of legs tangled with mine.

Turning around slowly, I came face to face with sleeping Nick and my heart. Stopped. Beating.

There he was, just breathing onto my neck with every exhale. His bare chest rising and falling. I've never seen him so calm, the lines around his face smoothed out and molded to this masterpiece of perfection. Nick's pastel lips were slightly parted, his arm thrown back against the pillow, and his legs resting carelessly intertwined with mine.

Like butterfly wings, his eyes fluttered open.

I didn't remove my gaze.

He took me in the exact same way I had previously done with him, his eyes soaking up my liquid turmoil like a sponge, no inch left uninspected.

I felt his foot twitch slightly underneath mine.

"Goodmorning," he groggily mumbled, his voice a mixture of gravel and warm coffee.

"Morning," I breathed, because what else was I to say?

I was supposed to be mad at him, but where did we go from here? I didn't remember much from last night, except for the excessive drinking and the unplugging of my brain as it left around the corner. Now here I was waking up next to Nick and I tried to forget the way the his eyes were sparkling, or the way the morning light was hitting his face- highlighting his cheekbones and his eyelashes making shadows across his lids.

His hand floated up, long fingers falling one by one onto my cheek and a warm palm resting underneath my chin. It felt secure, cozy, and all at once exhilarating. My cells were dancing, my atoms bouncing off one another in a frenzy because they didn't know what to do when someone I thought of too much touched me in the simplest way. I didn't know what to do because my emotions were mixed up, telling me that I should be mad when I just felt deeper and deeper-

I closed my eyes, forcing myself not to think anymore, just to feel.

Nick leaned into me, his forehead pressed against the side of my temple, his nose skimming the surface of my round cheek. "Where do we go from here?" he mumbled, his voice husky.

I released a breath. "What do you expect me to say?"

His eyes opened, looking at me sadly. A release of breath left his lips. "That's the thing," he said. "I expect you to leave me. Because that's the logical thing to do. But..."

"But?"

"But, I don't want you too," he said, his voice stern. "I feel that I need you as much as you need me." His eyes were pleading, desperate.

I felt the pounding in my skull announce itself, as if to remind me that it was still there, there was still pain- there was still hurt.

"Can we talk about this when I don't have a hangover?" I mumbled, but gave him a small smile, letting him know I wasn't mad. "Let's just have an easy day, don't worry about what happens tomorrow or the next day. I don't want to think, Nick."