Ariana
I press the heel of my palm against my eye as my toenails dig against the soft material underneath me. I pry my eyes open and let them take in the place once again: super soft gray sofa bed, optic white ceiling, a laptop and 2 pizza boxes on a coffee table, and a human boy sleeping on my butt. I can't believe I'm here. I can't believe he's here.
I can't believe we just spent the night together.
And yes, he's sleeping on my butt. I'm laying on my back on the sofa bed, both feet on his lap. I remember having him rub my feet last night. I don't remember agreeing on sleeping.
He starts to shift and reach for my hand, so I smile and entwine our fingers.
"Good morning," I say, running my fingers through his hair.
"Morning," he answers, his voice raspy with sleep. Damn. I missed that. I missed that so much.
"Dumbest all-nighter ever. We didn't even get halfway through the 2nd season."
He looks up at me and smiles.
I missed that.
"You're the one who fell asleep first, Missy. What a weakling."
Oh. "That's frustrating."
"True story," he pulls back and stands, taking my hand and pulling me up with him. "Come on, we're making breakfast."
So we make breakfast. No, actually, he makes breakfast. I dock up the iPod a little bit and sing while I watch him making pancakes across the kitchen isle. I missed this. I missed him.
It's the last week of summer and unlike we'd expected, we've only spent so little of our summer together. We both became busy signing up for college right after graduation, choosing career paths and taking things seriously. I work part time at a bookstore for the summer break to support myself in terms of wants–makeup, concert tickets, other things–since my parents can't think of anything else but college.
Alex's scholarship to Boston University takes him 1,848 miles away from Texas. From me. He's a 5-hour plane ride away and I honestly feel so sad about this. Hell, it's almost depressing. The first nights were the hardest. I'm used to talking to him on my rooftop for hours before going to sleep, now a 30-minute phone call is the most glorious part of my day.
His visit is unexpected, however. He never spoke a word about flying back. Now he's here. Wow. Who knew I'd get to watch him make pancakes one morning after a supposedly-all-nighter at the end of summer?
"I saw your photos at the beach." He says, pushing a mug of coffee towards me on the countertop. "I don't think I've ever missed Texas so much."
"You saw my photos?"
"Everyone did, A. It's called Facebook. And speaking of the beach, I'd like to go there this afternoon. That okay?"
My eyes light up with excitement. I want to clap my hands but that's lame. I'm stoked. Me and Alex. At the beach. The way it used to be. The way it's supposed to be. I missed this more than anything else. I missed him so much. "Of course." I smile.
