inspired ; chrismd

[ 9 ]

I look over to my right. Next to me is a short, strongly built man, my boyfriend; my real life boyfriend, not a pillow or a dummy to make me feel better about my social status, a real person who I am lucky enough to call mine.

"You know, a picture lasts longer." He opens his eyes as he speaks, his voice still harsh from sleep. Who am I kidding, though, his morning voice is freaking sexy. Thinking back to last night makes me smile.

We travelled back from Portsmouth, where the ship docked, by ferry (ironic to be honest) and I crashed at Chris'. I don't remember anything after that (don't you freaking dare, dirty minded people) only that I spent the entire evening laughing.

"What're you thinking 'bout?" he asks, probably slightly disturbed by the creepy 'thinking face' that has undoubtedly appeared on my face during the period of silence.

"You." I reply honestly, instantly regretting it and turning a dark shade of scarlet, one to match the shirt (a borrowed one of Chris') that I am wearing. However, to my complete astonishment, he chuckles, voice still a little gravely.

"Thank goodness I'm not the only creep around here." Just as my face had begun to return to it's normal shade, I blush yet again but giggle as well. I snuggle closer into Chris' chest and, just as I do this, a gurgle emerges from his stomach. I laugh out loud in response to this.

"As much as I love cuddling with you, and I really do, my stomach unfortunately has other ideas." Surprisingly, where I would have blushed scarlet and most likely hidden, he recovers with humour.

"We could go and get something from the bakers on my side of town?" He laughs at my suggestion, his bare chest vibrating, but he nods nonetheless.

Luckily, my suitcase is downstairs - as opposed to being at mine - so I grab some clothes, a pair of dungarees with a shirt, the necessary toiletries and my makeuo bag, from inside of it. Retreating to the bathroom to change, I bump into a tall but slender man where nothing but a dressing gown and some pajama trousers. I take a few steps back, a little worried.

"You must be Molly, right? The girl that finally got my son drooling," he asks causing me to blush again. I regain my composure to answer.

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm his dad, by the way." He extends a hand which I shake firmly. "I've heard a lot about you."

With that, he walks past me and down the stairs leaving my quite bewildered. Deciding to disregard this, I step into the bathroom and change into the clothes I had selected, applying a minimal amount of makeup in order to take as little time as possible. Finally, I leave, feeling pretty much satisfied with how I look.

I approach Chris' bedroom door tentatively and knock.

"Come in," he yells from inside. The door handle jams slightly as I twist it but I open it fine nonetheless. Chris is sat at his desk with an editing program open, his hair, however, still messy from sleep with no product in it and a little bit falling onto his forehead.

"You took your time," he says, happy sarcasm present in his tone of voice, "Not that I'm complaining; you look stunning."

I look down at my Star Wars sock covered feet but smile widely, trying to hide my embarassment. I had never been very good at taking complements.

"Let me just do my hair then we can head off. I'm sure you want to get back to your house pretty quickly." I nod in response but stop him as he walks past.

"Can I do it? Your hair I mean." He smiles at me and nods, taking my hand as we walk to the bathroom.

"Come on then, beauty guru. Go for it. Show me what you've got." I laugh at this and take a tiny bit of my styling wax (leaving his gel on the side) and sweep his fringe out of his face.

"Done," I exclaim, giggling internally at the confused look on his face.

"Really?"

"Really. Look in the mirror." 

He stands and looks straight into the mirror, grinning.

"How the heck did you know how to do that?!"

"Girl magic," I reply, winking sassily. He just laughs and follows me out of the room, down the stairs and to the hallway.

I fasten my boots tightly then stand to check my hair in the mirror. With little or no warning, I feel a pair of hands slide around my waist. Chris rests his head on my shoulder then makes firm eye contact with me in the mirror.

"You're beautiful," he whispers making the small hairs on thr back of my neck stand on end, rising in goodebumps. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I would day the same to you," I reply in the same hushed tone. His hands spin me round to face him. We make eye contact for a few seconds before I feel his lips on mine. His tongue runs along my bottom lip asking for entrance which I gladly accept. Our make out session continues for a while until I have to breathe. We pull apart, his forehead still resting on mine.

"Why you chose me instead of Simon or someone else is beyond me."

"It shouldn't be."

"Why's that then?"

"Because it's not everyday that somebody sticks around, actually cares and want the best for you, no matter where you are." He looks around comically, as if trying to show his slight cluelessness.

"It's you Chris. You. It's been you for as long as I've known you. You inspire me Chris."

"Then maybe we just inspire eachother."

Agh the cringe. This book is very nearly done. Sorry for the slow updates though. Life has been mad.

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xxxx