JUNO (sabrina carpenter x you)

chapter 20

Y/N's POV 

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I woke to the sound of distant footsteps on the hardwood floor — slow and careful, probably Nonna doing her usual pre-sunrise kitchen pilgrimage — and the gentle hum of the heater groaning against the chill. It was the kind of cold that made the air sharp at the tip of your nose, but under the covers, it was warm. The perfect kind of warm, the kind you don't want to leave. The kind that holds you there.

Sabrina was curled into my side, arm slung around my stomach, her legs tangled with mine. Her face was pressed into the crook of my shoulder, breath soft and slow against my collarbone. Her hair was a soft, wild mess across the pillow — golden and glowing in the faint gray morning light. One side of her mouth was parted, like she'd been mid-sentence in a dream.

She looked beautiful. Effortlessly, heartbreakingly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made my chest hurt in the best way. My hand instinctively rested on her back, fingertips brushing slow, lazy circles against the worn fabric of the sweatshirt she'd stolen from me the night before.

I reached for my phone. 7:46 a.m.

Too early for post-holiday anything. Too early to be functional. 

Too early for pants.

I was about to let myself drift again when she stirred, shifting slightly, a sleepy little hum vibrating against my skin.

"You awake?" I whispered, voice still raspy with sleep.

"No," she mumbled into my chest.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "That was the worst lie I've ever heard."

"Didn't say it was a good one," she muttered, voice muffled. "Just didn't want you to move. You're warm."

"You're clingy."

"You love it."

I sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately, I do."

She nuzzled in closer, tightening her grip around my waist like she was making sure I didn't sneak away. Her fingers slid under the hem of my shirt, cold on my skin. We laid there for a while like that — no alarms, no obligations, just soft skin and slow breath and the comfort of being wrapped around the person you loved.

Eventually, a new smell joined the quiet: espresso and something sweet baking downstairs.

Sabrina groaned, a smile etching her lips. "Why does your house smell like a bakery?"

I smiled against her forehead. "Because Nonna wakes up at dawn and whips up enough pastries to feed North Jersey."

"You have to marry me." she said, lifting her head just slightly, eyes still closed. "I need access to this forever."

I laughed. "Noted. I'll bring it up at brunch. Right after the frittata and before Nonna tries to guilt you into taking home twenty pounds of leftovers."

She laughed into my neck, and for a moment, the house didn't feel like just a house. It felt like ours — like maybe this could be our version of forever. Family chaos and flour fights and sleepy mornings tangled up in old quilts.

Sabrina eventually propped herself up on one elbow, hair falling around her like a halo. Her eyes met mine — still heavy-lidded from sleep, but clear. Serious. Her hand found mine, fingers sliding between mine.

I couldn't help but to lean in and kiss her, slow and deep, like I wanted to mark the moment. When we pulled apart, she exhaled like she'd been holding her breath.