When We Met

Eighteen

|Martin|

I remember smiling before falling asleep last night. It was peculiar, because I rarely smile before going to bed. And I'm struggling to put my finger on the reason behind those goofy smiles.

My eyes flicker open at the sound of light snores beside me.

Beside me?

I tilt my head sideways and freeze still. There is a cute little head right on my shoulder, and an arm is draped around my waist. Smooth, silky hair tickle the crook of my neck and there is a strangely familiar scent encasing me.

I am highly conscious of my arm coiled around a petite, yet insanely curvy waist. What the hell is going on?

I shift a little, and that's when the person's face becomes conveniently visible.

It's Cheryl Donovan.

Right at that moment, my heart starts beating at an erratic pace. The adrenaline sends tingles down my whole body and I swallow the lump in my throat.

Did something happen last night?

A pulsing headache answers my question. And slowly, a fuzzy flashback flows back in front of my eyes.

My parents in my apartment. Deborah serving them something. I storm out of the apartment and empty the stack of alcohol in my car. Cheryl appears out of the blue. A vague image of us kissing the life out of each other. And then?

Blackout.

I believe Cheryl and I have switched selves this time. She is asleep, sober as ever. And an excruciating hangover has victimised me. What an ironic situation.

Cheryl stirs beside me, her head making an intimate contact with my chest, and the grip of her arm tightens around my waist.

Despite myself, I smile.

Oh, right. The smile. It's pretty clear now, why I had been smiling like a goofy creepster. I had fallen asleep with Cheryl lying right next to me. Of course, I was smiling.

As if on cue, Cheryl's eyes flutter open. She looks around her in confusion and slowly, turns her head towards me.

Instead of pushing me away, her face breaks into a genuine grin. I reciprocate the same immediately. This feels like home.

"Good morning, sunshine." I mutter groggily and her face scrunches up.

"Cliched. Couldn't come up with something better?" She complains, no intention of untangling our joined limbs. Thank god we are fully clothed.
"What? You don't like it when I compare you with the sun?"

"Neh. More like, raindrops." She winks cheekily. I raise an eyebrow in amazement.

"You prefer rain?"

"Obviously. It's more romantic, and doesn't make my skin tan."

Her comment makes me laugh like a lunatic. Funny business, isn't it?

"You know what? I'm kind of getting used to waking up in your bedroom." I state.

"Really? Well, good for you, my gentleman." She pulls herself up and runs her free hand through my messy hair. "I like this." She smiles at me, her hand fitting perfectly over my cheek.

"Me too." I reply honestly, placing my hand over hers.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the one where you inaudibly compliment the beauty of the person laid beside you.

After that brief moment of silence, Cheryl gets up from the bed and pulls her hair into a messy bun at the top of her head. I watch her intently, a smile plastered on my face.