The Bucketlist Bitches

Mornin'

The soft sheets against the bare skin of my stomach, the cold light seeping through the window and the sound of breathing is all that exists when I open my eyes. The world has stopped and given me a space to breathe, and the air feels so good.

I turn my head to the side, my eyes falling to rest on a pair of dark eyebrows hovering above closed eyelids. His eyelashes are so long they brush the top of his cheekbones, and his lips hang slightly open as air travels in and out of his sleeping mouth. Up close i can see a couple of freckles on his nose and the slight blush that always adorn his cheeks in a whole new way.

I lay for a couple of minutes, just looking at him. Evan.

The only person who cared enough to really ask me if I was okay.

The only person I´d opened up to, if ever so slightly.

The only person in the world I´d want to wake up with on the first day of the new year.

A cold gust of wind makes me shiver, and I discover that the big blue sweater he lened me yesterday has slid up my stomach, now only barely covering my boobs. But that is not what makes my breath hitch in my throath and the sun inside my heart to glow a little brighter. Because there, on my rib cage, his thumb almost brushing the soft skin on my left breast, is a hand. His hand.

it feels warm against my exposed skin, and it feels right, like he's protecting me, like he can hold on to me not matter what happens.

A soft blush creeps over my cheeks and I roll over, causing his hand to rest on my back in stead. I bury my head in his bare chest, warming my cold nose against his warm skin. I blink a couple of times before I feel his arm sliding down to my waist and pull me closer as a soft chuckle vibrates in his chest. "That tickles" He says, his voice hoarse and groggy from sleep. "Good morning" I look up and my green eyes  meet his blue. They're hazy with sleep, but they´re still the most beautiful pair of eyes i´ve ever seen. "Good morning" I whisper, and he smiles lazily.

"How did you sleep?" He asks. "Good, actually better than I have slept for months" I smile, hoping my breath doesn´t smell like death. "Good, maybe we should make this a regular thing?" "Absolutely." I whisper and he kisses my forehead, causing all of my internal organs to glow with a soft golden glow.

Evans P.O.V

Black skinny jeans, so tight it looks as tough they are sewn onto her skin, black dr. Martens, a light blue sweater so big it falls down on one shoulder, a pair of collarbones so soft they look like the wings of a bird, her hair in a messy ponytail,  a few loose strands falling over her forehead. There is a slight blush on her cheeksbones, as though the cold January air planted a pair of roses on her skin.

She is trying to concentrate on what the teacher is saying, scrunching her dark eyebrows together and taking her lips between her teeth. I could look at her for ever, and never grow tired.

But then it's like she notices me looking, and she turns around. Our eyes meet and I feel a pang in my chest.

As a small smlie creeps over her lips, her eyes crinckle and the roses on her cheekbones grows darker. The world slows down and suddenly the other people in the class disdapears. We're the only ones in this room, fireworks erupting in our eyes and dawning suns in our hearts. But all to sudden her eyes wander back to the blackboard and our moment is over.

I smile to myself,  turning my eyes towards the book in front of me, as I remember how it was like to sleep with her, in the most innocent term of the word. How it felt like being able to wrap my arm around her and bury my face in her hair. And how she gracefully slid out of bed, bending down to put on the pair of sweatpants she had discarded sometime during the night because "it was bloody hot" as she put it.

And I remember how her eyelids drooped sleepily as we made pancakes in the kitchen afterwards,  and how badly I wanted to kiss her there she sat on the kitchen counter. But I also remembered that I couldn't do it because it wasn't what she needed, what we needed.

We didn't need someone to kiss and call our own. We needed someone to make us laugh, someone to talk to, someone to trust. We needed a friend, so that's what we were: friends.

I'm brutally snapped out of my daydreams when the teacher suddenly says: "Evan,  can you please repeat what I  was saying?" Mrs. Smith is looking straight at me, steel glinting in her eyes and I rake my mind to try to remember. I can't.

"No, I'm sorry." I say, feeling the eyes of the entire class on me.

"And why is that?" "I wasn't paying attention." As I make my confession I see a devilish look settle across her face, and I brace myself for what I know is coming.

"I should probably ask you what was so important you had to take time out of my class to think about it, but as much as we would love to hear about your daydreams, I don't think we have the time to listen to smut. Please pay attention next time Evan." She says, a smirk playing in the corner of her mouth, and a small chuckle spreads out in the room as she walks back to the blackboard.

That's the way in mrs. Smith's class: she will find you zoned out, call you out in front of the entire class, making some kind of sassy comment and move on. She never gives anyone detention.

As much as we hate to admit it, we all think she is pretty cool.

As soon as she dismisses the class telling us to take out our food and and start earning, the cafeteria is closed today, I make my way to cat's desk.

"Hey" I say and sit down on her desk, quietly ignoring the empty space beside her.

I know Cat's group of friends just had a pretty violent 'breakup' but no one have seen Renee for weeks. She is constantly disappearing for days at a time and then she shows up again, going to classes like nothing happened. Rumour has it she has gotten into drugs and parties all the time. Sleeping on random peoples couches.  I don't believe any of those rumours,  but I'm not going to take it up with Cat. She has gone through hell since she lost her friends and I'm not going to rip open a wound that has barely closed.

"Hey" she says, and smiles up at me. I haven't seen her since she hugged me goodbye and dissapeared out in the snow four days ago, and I must admit it's good to see her again.

"What's up?" I prop an earplug in my ear, turning on a song out of old habit and handing the other to Cat, so we can listen together.

"Trying my best to not imagine what kind of smutty thoughts a certain person was thinking, which proves to be surprisingly hard to do. Apart from that, not much."

I feel myself blush slightly as she says it, avoiding eye contact as I answer: "For your information, I wasn't thinking any smutty thoughts." "He says while he blushes like a maiden and stares down at his hands." As she speaks,  I see a twinkle in her eyes, a spark that reveals a glimpse of a side I have yet to see of her. A side she usually reserves for her closest friends and strangers. The side I almost thought was dead when I met her on that icy road: her adventurous side.

"Think what you want, my thoughts were totally pure. I haven't even read smut before." I try to defend myself.

"Sure. Whatever you say." And by the Way she smiles, I can tell she will show me that side if I just give her time.

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(A/N)

The blue sweaters are a metaphor; the lighter the colour, the happier the person wearing it is

~ Carrie