Say you'll stay - Channing Tatum

P.36

Reaching up to grab one of the boxes on the top shelf, I accidentally hit the one beside it, causing it to fall with a thud. Coffee beans spill over the floor and quickly turn the otherwise white tiles, brown. I sight and step down, observing the mess I'm now forced to clean up.

"Is everything okay?" I hear Amber yell from the other side of the wall.

"Yeah. I'll be out in a minute!"

I look around for the broom and find it in the corner by the freezer. The beans crunch under my feet when I walk over the floor, emphasizing my mistake.

The whole morning has consisted of cleaning up different messes I've created. From the coffee I spilled over the counter to the tray of cupcakes I dropped after bumping into a table. It must be the lack of sleep, I'm not myself.

After the dinner at moms I walked the forty minutes home. It was cold and my fingers went numb, but the air felt nice and I needed to walk after eating what I think must've been five plates of food. Whenever I thought I was done, she brought something new she convinced me I had to try. She was right. It was amazing and so is she.

When I got home I went to bed almost immediately, thinking I'd fall asleep within minutes; which turned into hours instead. I tossed and turned and tried to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but everything felt wrong. The mattress felt cold and the duvet folded in all the wrong places. When it was five minutes to four, I gave up. I just laid there and stared up at the ceiling wondering if I'd ever be able to sleep again.

Now I wonder how I'm supposed to stay awake.

After sweeping the floor and throwing all the beans in the trash, I walk over to the shelves again. Rubbing my eye before glancing up at the box I need, I grab a hold of the pillar and climb the lowest shelf. You'd think we'd be smart about it and put the things we use the most at the very bottom, but apparently not.

Just as I reach for the box, someone beats me to it.

An involuntary smile shapes my lips as I step down to the floor. "Thank you", I say and look up at him. He's already smiling, crinkles by his eyes and all.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my cheeks now warm. He puts down the box on the floor before turning to me. "You can't be in here."

"Yet I am." He states the obvious wearing a crooked smile. "But I'll go then?"

"Don't go." I rush. A chuckle escapes his lips at my fast response and he stops.

"No?" He mocks me and I feel the blush creeping up on my cheeks.

"No," I repeat, my voice small. I love that he's here.

He looks down at me and takes a step closer, soothing the slight ache in my chest from missing him. He brings his hand up to my face and strokes the piece of hair away, his warm fingertip brushing against my cheek. "Good,"

I can feel his eyes rest on me while he lets his fingertips run over my cheek, the bridge of my nose and up to my brows, smoothing out the crease that must've been there. "Are you okay?" He asks, green eyes carefully watching me. I wonder if I look as tired as I feel.

"Yes,"

He squints, "You're sure?"

I roll my eyes at him asking twice, but feel my heart grow by the second.

Intentionally furrowing my brows, I watch him as he quickly brings his thumb back to the crease, smoothing it out, only for me to do it again as soon as he removes his hand.

He puts his thumb between my brows and holds it there. "Stop it, Brooke." He says, tone flat and eyes burrowing into mine jokingly. There's something about the way he says my name.