If Only (GxG)

Chapter 37 Weekend Things

『 °*• ❀ •*°』
Alison's POV

Saturday morning arrived the way all good Saturdays should—softly, slowly, like the world had finally decided to exhale. The light in Blake's bedroom spilled across the hardwood floors in golden streaks, filtered through gauzy curtains that swayed just slightly in the breeze. Everything felt warm and suspended in time, like we were tucked safely into a corner of the world no one else could reach.

I woke up to the very familiar sensation of being held in a vice grip.

Blake had me pinned with quiet determination—her arm wrapped tightly around my waist, her leg slung over mine, her body curved around my back with the stubborn possessiveness of someone who had no intention of letting go. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and her breath tickled the back of my neck.

This wasn't unusual. In fact, by now, it was practically tradition. At this point, I'd probably feel strange not waking up wrapped in a full-body Blake-coil. Her version of a death grip in sleep had become something comforting—an anchor. A soft kind of claim.

Even in sleep, she held me like she knew how easily she could lose me.

Her fingers twitched slightly against the curve of my hip, like she was still dreaming of holding me tighter. A soft smile tugged at my lips. I didn't move. Didn't want to. Not yet.

"You're smothering me," I mumbled into the pillow, my voice scratchy and half-lost in cotton.

She hummed low in her throat, lips brushing the back of my shoulder. "That's the point," she said, voice thick with sleep. "You squirm. I had to take preventative measures."

I let out a small, muffled laugh. "You love it."

"I do," she whispered, the words brushing warmly against my skin. "You feel good in my arms."

And just like that—I melted. All over again.

We lay there like that, tangled up and silent, wrapped in the hush of morning. Nothing needed to be said. We were breathing together. That was enough.

Eventually, I turned slightly, just enough to glimpse her face. She was already awake, of course. Eyes heavy-lidded and soft, watching me like she'd been doing it for a while.

"Are you watching me sleep?" I asked, blinking up at her.

Without hesitation, she replied, "I'm admiring the small miracle of a woman who somehow manages to take up three-quarters of a king-sized bed."

I huffed. "Because I'm graceful."

"You're a menace," she murmured fondly, brushing a kiss to my forehead. "A warm, wiggly menace I wouldn't trade for anything."

Her hair was loose for once, a tousled halo of dark curls around her face. The kind of soft, sleep-rumpled version of her that no one else got to see. Her skin was bare and warm under the thin fabric of her T-shirt, her expression unguarded in the morning light. She looked... young, and devastatingly beautiful. A little undone. Entirely mine.

I sighed dramatically. "You're illegally attractive before 9 a.m. It's very unfair."

Blake smiled—slow, crooked, sleepy. "I should be thanking you."

My brows lifted. "For what?"

"For staying," she said softly, her voice catching on the last word. "For not giving up on me this week. For being patient when I didn't deserve it."

A tear slipped quietly down her cheek. She brushed it away with the heel of her palm like it embarrassed her.

My heart ached.