I registered a soreness on my chest as I opened my eyes. I pull Dean's hair as I try to force his head off of my chest. He groans is protest and his grip on my waist becomes even stronger. As a form of compromise Dean moves his head to lay on my stomach instead. Why are my boobs so sore? Dean uses them as pillows all the time and they never get sore like this. I ignore the soreness as I stare up at the ceiling.
I'm hungry but Dean's still asleep and I don't feel like making my own breakfast. Even if I did want to make my own breakfast in order to let Dean sleep, there's no way I'm getting out of bed without waking him up. I keep my eyes on the ceiling as I absentmindedly run my fingers through his hair. Every few strokes I gently tug on his hair.
"Good morning," Dean says quietly, I look down and notice that his eyes are still closed. "It will be once I get some food," I reply, and as if on cue my stomach growls making Dean release a deep chuckle. He removes his arm from my waist as he sits up and offers me a lazy smile. His hair is sticking up at odd angles due to me tugging on it, and I can't help but chuckle at the adorable sight.
"So, what would you like for breakfast?" Dean asks as his smile widens. "Ice cream," I reply without a second thought. "You cannot have ice cream for breakfast," Dean states firmly with a serious look on his face. I pout at him before I stick my tongue out, scrunching my nose. Making Dean laugh at my reaction.
"How bout I make you actual breakfast then we can eat all the ice cream you want later?" He says trying to compromise. "Ugh, fine. Just let me pee first." I agree even though I still want ice cream for breakfast. Dean rolls his eyes and holds his hand out for me to take. As soon as I do he pulls me up and I head to the bathroom, as soon as I finish my business I brush my teeth with my spare toothbrush that I leave at Dean's house.
I go to sit on Dean's bed as I wait for him to brush his teeth, afterwards we head to the kitchen. I take a seat on my stool and Dean walks around the kitchen island. My eyes followed him as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a bowl. "Am I gonna get my ice cream?" I ask excitedly. "Yes." He replies, making me smile. "After you eat breakfast." He quickly adds and my smile disappears just as fast. "I hate you." I say as I roll my eyes. "I know you do." He replies with a small smile as he leans over the kitchen island and presses a kiss to my forehead.
"So what's for breakfast asshat?" I ask in an innocent voice. Today is just one of those days where my tolerance for bullshit is nonexistent. "It's a surprise, so cover your eyes." Dean says pointing a finger at me. I groan in annoyance as I glare at Dean. "Just stop whining and cover your eyes." He says in an amused tone. Rolling my eyes I bring the palms of my hands to cover my eyes. All I can hear is Dean shuffling around the kitchen, part of me is hoping he's preparing a bowl of ice cream. But the logical part of me knows he'll make a so-called "real meal". A few minutes later my patience is running low, just as I'm about to tell Dean to hurry the fuck up he speaks up.
"You can open your eyes now." His husky voice is music to my ears. I pull palms away from my eyes and my vision is slightly blurry for a few seconds but as it comes back into focus I look at the bowl of oats and berries in front of me. There's a glass with amber liquid next to it, which I assume is apple juice, unless Deans trying to get me drunk at nine in the morning. I highly doubt he would, considering he won't let me have ice cream for breakfast, giving me alcohol wouldn't be a good alternative. And plus, he knows getting drunk is always more fun at night. As an eighteen year old, I probably shouldn't know that but I've known that since I was sixteen. Although, if you ask my parents they'll give you a different answer.
The refrigerator door slamming shut makes me look up at Dean as he takes a seat in front of me before handing me a cup of yogurt and a silver spoon to go with my breakfast. "Thanks" I mumble as I pick up the spoon and peel open the thin sheet covering the small container of yogurt. Dean offers me a lopsided smile in return and I can't help but notice how cute he looks with is hair still mussed from sleep or from me running my fingers through it, probably both. We finish our breakfast in silence and we place the dirty dishes in the dishwasher before heading back upstairs to Dean's room.
YOU ARE READING
Alaina Clark
Ficção AdolescenteAlaina is a mysterious 18-year old who's life just got way more complicated. Her best friend being the hot boy next door. Things start spiraling out of control as all kinds of things come into her life. But which part of her life holds the wild card...