Picture of the Stanford residence to the right ----------->
Hope you like it! xD
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The warmth of a pair of arms wrapped around me snuggly. The feel of my head resting on a chest, rising and falling, along with the steady breathing I felt at the top of my head. My leg tangled with someone else’s without the intention of unraveling them, that familiar smell of sweet chocolates, citrus, and cologne. As well as the faint sound of crickets outside, along with the TV below me. That’s what I woke up to, and when I opened my eyes slightly, I saw the credits of The Notebook scrolling up the screen. I brought my head up to meet Nate’s sleeping face lit up dimly by the TV’s glow.
His room was, pitch black. And for a blissful moment, I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep—that I wasn’t supposed to get caught up in staying at his place. “Nate…” I whispered. He didn’t budge. “Nate,” I called again, a little louder this time. He stirred awake, letting out a groggy groan. His eyes slowly fluttered open.
“Oh, hey,” he greeted sleepily. “Movie over?” he asked. I nodded. He smirked. “You fell asleep before your favorite part.”
I raised a brow. “And what exactly is my part? Do tell.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “It’s the whole Allie and Noah on the pier where he says, ‘It still isn’t over’ and they make love. It’s every girl’s favorite part.” I stifled a laugh as I shook my head. His brows rose. “What? Are you serious?”
“I’m serious,” I assured. “My favorite part already played.”
“And what exactly is that? Do tell.”
I smiled. “I’d rather not.” He frowned. “It’s a small secret I’d like to keep to myself. But let me ask. What’s your favorite part?”
Nate released his arms around me and placed them behind his head as he replied very hesitantly, “…You’re going to laugh…”
I raised an inquisitive brow. “Why would I”—I stopped myself short, and my jaw dropped—“the pier scene is your favorite, isn’t it?” No response. “Holy. Crap. You’re such a romantic,” I teased in a quiet voice.
He rolled his eyes, avoiding my gaze, embarrassed. “Shut up…”
I smiled, letting out a small chuckle. “It’s cute though.” He winced. “But I’ve always wondered this for the past two hours…what got you into The Notebook in the first place?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know… I was bored, so I decided to rent a random movie about—oh, I don’t know—four years ago?” He was fourteen? I thought to myself. “Anyway…I thought it’d be all cheesy and corny, but I eventually…liked it.”
“Oh, come on. Saying you liked it is an understatement,” I differed.
“Fine,” he sighed, “I loved it.”
A slow smile crept on my face. Then, I finally asked, “So…what time is it?”
Nate raised a brow, as though he wasn’t expecting me to ask—like he expected me to stay (which I so wanted to do). He pulled out his phone, and when the light flashed in his face, he scrunched it up before he squint his eyes to the screen. “It’s twelve-forty-seven…why?”
My eyes widened, and panic began to settle. It’s this late? Good God, did the movie just play by itself after the first run-through? I bet. “Nate, I need to get home,” I informed hastily as I pushed myself off him and rushed over to the entrance.
YOU ARE READING
7 Minutes in Heaven
Teen FictionJemma Song is Little Miss Priss. Nate Stanford is Mr. Player. She doesn't drink, party, fight, smoke, do drugs or sleep around. He does, and when these two first meet, Jemma wants nothing to do with Nate. But when her older brother, Emmett, throws a...
