JUNO (sabrina carpenter x you)

chapter 27

Sabrina's POV

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I'm still in her lap when the house calls us.

My knees are on either side of her hips, her hands warm at my waist, and we're tucked into the soft dip of my old comforter like the world can't find us here. The lamplight paints a low halo over Y/N's cheekbones. I study her—freckles I've counted a hundred times, the little scar at her brow, the way her mouth tips up when she's trying not to smile.

I tip my forehead to hers and kiss her once, then again, then can't help a third time, slower. She tastes like the mint gum she stole from my tote on the car ride here.

"I don't wanna leave this room," I whisper into the kiss.

Her smile brushes mine. "We probably should. Your entire family is downstairs."

I make a wounded sound and burrow closer. "They can wait. I'm having a spiritual experience."

She laughs—low, pleased. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm." I nip at her lower lip, smug. "You're unfairly sexy. It's honestly rude."

"File a complaint."

"I will. With God."

She grins. "Tell Him I said hi."

I lean back just far enough to look at her properly. Everything in me is warm. I can feel the pulse at my throat quicken when her hands slide a little higher at my waist, steady, claiming. "You're so pretty it's distracting," I admit. "Like—how am I supposed to introduce you to my grandma when you look like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like you were carved to ruin me."

She actually blushes, and the victory goes straight to my head. I'm shameless enough to chase it, dragging my fingers through her hair. "If I keep kissing you, I'm gonna be late to dinner and it'll be your fault."

"Worthy cause," she murmurs, and kisses me first this time, deep and lingering—the kind of kiss that makes it impossible to remember my middle name, let alone the schedule for the evening.

A burst of laughter rises from the living room, muffled through the floorboards. It breaks the spell just enough for responsibility to elbow its way back in.

I sigh into her mouth and pull back an inch. "Okay. We go down there. We charm everyone. We survive Dad's eyebrow. Then we come back up here and I kiss you until I fall asleep on your chest. Deal?"

She strokes my jaw with her thumb. "Deal."

"Also," I add with a small grin, "you should know... this is just the intro family dinner. Nothing compared to what it'll be like on Christmas Day."

She groans dramatically. "I'm terrified already."

"You should be."

I slide off her lap reluctantly and tug her up with both hands. She squeezes my fingers once—grounding—and we head for the door.

The stairs creak the way they always have. At the bottom, the house is louder, fuller—coats on the banister, voices crossing like ribbons, someone testing the volume on the TV with a too-loud jingle. I lace our fingers tighter because I don't want to do this part without touching her.

The front door opens on a flurry of cold air and my grandmother, wrapped in her thick wool coat and scarf, cheeks rosy from the cold. Behind her are my aunt and uncle, and trailing them is one of my cousins, balancing a diaper bag and car seat like she's been through a small war just getting to the front door.