No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

je suis difficile, annabelle tombe d'un canapé, et nous prenons une décision

 It smells like carrot cake in Annabelle's house when I unlock the door and step inside.

She's laying half on the couch, half on the floor in gray sweatpants hanging low on her hips and a bralette. When she hears me come in, she raises her arms.

"Cuddle me?"

"On the floor, or on the couch?" I tease her.

"I don't know, Hazel Ava. My brain stopped working ten minutes ago. How much time is left on the oven?"

"Seventeen minutes. Annabelle, what happened?"

"Nothing," she says dragging herself fully back onto the couch. She reaches her hand out to grab mine and pulls me on top of her. "I've been stuck in this bloody house all day, with no mother or sister to entertain me."

"Well, thank goodness I'm here, right?"

"Right. I even resorted to baking. If you had taken much longer I might have picked up Momma's yarn and needles."

"Hmm," I sigh, pressing my face into her collarbone. "I love you."

"I love you too. What brought on this sudden burst of affection?"

I shrug. "Just seemed like a good time to remind you of my undying attraction to everything about you."

"Cool."

There's silence for some time, during which I listen to her heartbeat and feel her breathe underneath me. She plays with my hair, mussing it out of the braids Jacob put in yesterday. I dance my fingertips along the skin on her stomach.

She slides her own fingers under my chin and lifts it so we're eye to eye.

"Can I kiss you?" The question catches me off guard. It's been a bit since we've kissed — we both prefer cuddling. I nod, though, and she pushes her head forward so our lips are pressed together.

It feels nice. And familiar, even though we don't do it often. Annabelle does this lovely thing where she hums. Softly, but enough so that I can feel it. I smile like crazy whenever she does it.

This goes on the a little while, until a loud beeping noise from the kitchen startles Annabelle to the point where she falls off the couch.

I don't even try to control my laughter. She does try to control hers, opting for an annoyed look at me instead, but she fails.

Annabelle's hair falls into her face as she lays down on the floor. The timer goes off for a second time, making us both jump. I nudge her back with my toe.

"Don't let your hard work go to waste."

"Can you get it?"

"Non, mon amour."

"Why not?"

"Je ne veux pas. C'est pourquoi."

"Ugh. You're so difficult sometimes." Annabelle uses her noodly arms to pick herself off the floor and stumble out to the kitchen. The beeping ceases abruptly, and the smell of carrot cake intensifies. I hear a rustling of papers.

"Oh, I thought I lost this ..." I open my mouth to ask about it, but she comes back in and lifts my legs up so she can sit underneath them. She holds up a flyer taken down from one of the bulletin boards on campus.

"I dunno, I saw it, and I was like "Oh that'd be cool," and then I was like "Well, maybe I should ask people first, namely my girlfriend and family," and then I just thought I lost the paper so it didn't matter."

"Studying abroad?" I say, taking in the bold title. "In the U.K.? That sounds amazing, Annabelle, you should do it if you want to."

"Would you do it with me?"

"Oh, no," I say, giving a nervous laugh. "No way. I'm not a plane person."

"But I don't wanna be away from you for that long."

"I mean, you know I'd Skype you every day if you wanted me to."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"I don't know, Haze." She draws it out. She's nervous.

"If you want to do it, you should do it. Don't worry about me. You always hear people who study abroad say how glad they are that they did it. If you think you'd enjoy it, do it."

"You'd Skype me every day?"

"Oui, mon amour."

"So, you think I should?"

"Yes, I think you'd like it."

"Will I get a British accent?"

"Depends on how much actual speaking you do to other people. I'd say yes. I like imagining you with a British accent." I swing my legs off of her lap and sit behind her. I start playing with her hair. It calms her down when she's anxious.

"Well, I guess I just might spend half a year in the U.K. then," she drawls.

"Not a full one?"

"Darling, you must have been misjudging my love for you this entire time we've known each other if you think I can spend an entire school year away from you."

a/n: cat hair all over my everything thanks daisy (i love u tho)