Too Much

Chapter Twenty

Eleanor

I fluttered my eyes open and squinted up to see Louis' beautiful eyes looking down at me. For some reason, it looked so bright -- like the clear blue sky on one fine sunny day. He was surprised though, eyes widening a bit and attempted to untangle our limbs and stumble out of bed. But I closed my eyes out of sleepiness and slipped my arms that were gripping his shirt to his waist down his back and cuddled him close me so he couldn't get away. I haven't woken up like that - a mess of limbs tangled together and face buried on someone's chest - that was the first time and I liked it and I was too comfortable with our position. I probably shouldn't be though, but he looked so soft and cuddly in the morning and I couldn't help myself.

"Noooo," I drawled, though it was being muffled by his shirt, "Don't leave."

He remained stiff, and his arms were frozen up in the air like he had no idea where to put it.

My senses finally worked and that's when I realized what I was doing. I started to get it -- his whole body language screamed uncomfort so I scooted back, widening the space between us and just stared at him. I looked at his bed hair on top of his head and it looked so soft and it was messy and I just wanted to run my fingers through it. I prevented myself from doing it though, crossing my arms on my chest and keeping my hands to myself. What I didn't notice was the pout that formed on my lips.

"What?" He asked as he noticed my sour face.

I childishly shook my head.

I wanna cuddle.

"Okay?" He laughed. "I'm just gonna go down and--"

"CanItouchyourhair."

He paused like he was replaying my statement in his head, trying to figure out what I just said, "I didn't quite catch that, love. What was it?"

I flushed, "Can I, um, touch your hair?" I shyly repeated.

Taken aback, it took him a moment to respond, "You wanna touch my hair?"

I flushed. I thought about it again, and yes maybe it was a stupid idea. I just asked him if I could touch his hair! What was I thinking?

No, I wasn't thinking at all is the thing. It was just that, his hair was begging to be touched.

"Nevermind." I said in a low voice, looking away.

In my peripheral vision, I saw him sigh and smile before extending his arms out towards me, "C'mere."

I happily scooted closer to enter his embrace, close enough to reach his head so my hand could go straight to fix his hair, especially his precious fringe, and I hummed in content.

I secretly loved it when his feather-like fringe was down and across his forehead.

His arms went to my waist and he was just watching me as I did my thing. Blue bright eyes intensely staring at me like he was burning holes to my skull but I was too engaged in playing with his hair to care.

"I like your hair, it's so soft. You look soft, too." I absently said. And well, yeah, my mouth has no filter in mornings.

"So, do you like me as well?" He asked jokingly.

And since my mouth runs on itself in mornings I answered almost immediately, "Yes. And Max. Max has nice hair, too. Not as soft as yours, though."

He withdrawed his arms from my waist at that and my brows furrowed in confusion. I stopped playing with his hair and looked at him -- he was sporting a stoic look and the brightness in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. "Max. Right."