The Renovation Complication

30. Waking Up

I wake up enveloped in something familiar and yet foreign. There's just something about the scent, the warmth, my face buried in something solid and yet comfortable. It's dark in the same way as a balmy night, watching the stars and wishing that the sun would never come up again, wishing that this would last forever. It's comforting.

Until that familiarity hits me.

It smells like peaches. Like peaches.

Like Mason.

I try to pull backwards to confirm, but something pulls me back in. And it's not just oestrogen. Mason's arms are wrapped tightly around me, one at my waist and the other on my shoulders. This shouldn't feel as good as it does. This is my annoying, brooding neighbour.

Undeniably attractive neighbour, but irritating nonetheless.

My head is tucked neatly under his chin so that my forehead connects with the hollow of his neck. How did this happen? The last thing I remember is being one of the last ones awake during the fourth Fast and Furious (which I later found out was what we had been watching). I remember being grouchy due to the proximity between myself and two bulky boys.

Am I complaining now? I don't even know.

I slowly squirm backwards, loosening the grip that Mason's arms have around me little by little. But not too much. I don't know why I hesitate to throw the guy off of me but I do.

Perhaps because if he woke up it'd be equally awkward for both of us. Yep, definitely it. I mean, there's no harm in letting him sleep out of the position. I guess he can't possibly be held accountable for what he does in his sleep. He probably thinks I'm Kasey right now.

For some reason I shudder at the thought. I really don't like that image.

It's clearly late... or early. I can't tell the difference. All I know is that it's dark but somehow I can see and all I can see is Mason.

He's like a baby in his slumber. A baby with a very sharp jawline and brassy hair. He looks docile and malleable. His breath is slow and steady and somehow I know that he's in the deepest form of sleep possible. Thank God he's a heavy sleeper. I can't imagine what would happen if he woke up right now, him holding a drowsy little girl that just doesn't belong in the arms of a boy like him. A boy so incredibly easy to evoke, so simply irritable that he could easily crush me if he wanted to. It's a wonder he hasn't.

As if sensing my eyes on him, his forehead twitches, scrunching as if concentrating on solving an impossible equation. I swear I can see fireflies in his hair, warm and golden. He makes a small, sleepy groan before flexing his biceps to pull the heap of gelatine limbs that is me toward him. I inhale the scent of summer on his neck.

When the hand on my waist wanders to my shoulder blade I stop breathing. But it doesn't seem to be any sort of sick advance, just an automatic response. He simply runs his hand to where my neck joins with the rest of my spine and returns to my waist. Making sure I'm still here, that I'm real.

It traces summer breezes and autumn leaves and roasting marshmallows along my back. There is fallen fruit in his fingertips and bright green fields and singing birds in his chest. Suddenly there are birds in my chest, too.

Don't fall asleep, a harsh voice tries to reach me, Get out of this while you still can.

But I don't want to. And I don't think I've ever fallen asleep so easily before in my life.

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Really short chapter but AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! The feels!!!

Guys, I'm too far in, too impossibly involved with characters that don't even exist. XD

God help me.

Song is one of my personal favourites Hunger by Ross Copperman <3

HEYO AGAIN, JUST THOUGHT I'D ONCE AGAIN DROP THE LINK TO MY POETRY BOOK www.lulu.com/shop/eva-hale/doors-to-nowhere/paperback/product-23304153.html