He was the boy on campus everyone strayed from. His looks, his demeanor, his everything was always so dark and formidable. Is there a possibility anyone can change him, or is that who he will be for the rest of his life? Stuck with nameless women, e...
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⇋ I woke up in the morning at seven. The sun was still attempting to rise, my shirt was resting on my torso in a bunched up mess, and I was tangled in a sea of blankets amongst Zach's warm body. I heard myself let out a groan from the back of my throat as the annoying, repetitive, beeping noise continued buzzing out of my cellphone. I quickly picked up the device just to shut off the alarm as quickly as possible, never once opening my eyes in the process.
I ended up lightly hitting Zach's bare stomach with my hand a few moments later, gaining a tired groan out of him as he shifted his body to face away from me.
"Give me another hour. Class doesn't start until nine thirty," he grumbled indistinctly with his cheek pressed against my pillow.
"So I'm eating breakfast by myself today?" I jokingly asked back in my rough morning voice as I finally found the motivation to open my eyes, only to peer into the pitch-black atmosphere surrounding us.
"I am not getting up at seven..." He sleepily groaned once more into my pillow, only this time his entire face was pressed entirely against the plushy cloth.
"Okay, I guess I'll just make french toast for myself then," I taunted and felt as his body raised upright calmly. He began sluggishly crawling over my stomach the best he could before slowly rolling out of the bed. He sat himself onto the edge of my mattress as his hands rubbed the sleep out of his face.
"It's Friday right?" He casually asked me and I made myself get out of my beckoning position while I nodded my head to answer his question.
"Yep."
"Shit, so I have chem lab, physics, and comp today..." He sighed only to pull himself from my full sized mattress to unenthusiastically drag himself out of my bedroom with me following close behind.
"Hey, at least you don't have history, quantitative methods, or abnormal psychology." I jokingly replied back as we made our way into my small kitchen area. "I definitely lied about the french toast, by the way," I spoke as if it was no big deal, and Zach's jaw slightly dropped in response.
"You're kidding."
"No, but I do have cinnamon toast crunch," I smiled back and began digging through my cabinets. I found the white cardboard box and brought it out of it's spot to sit it on top of the counter, reaching back up into the same cabinet to get two bowls out.
"You're just trying to get on my bad side today, aren't you?"
"I guess I am," I giggled at Zach, who was scrunching his nose in a disgusted way toward my choice of breakfast.
Normally I get up at six or so, but for Zach's sake, I change the alarm to seven when he stays the night. This normally means I'll be in a rush to get to my eighty-thirty U.S. history class. But that's the price I pay to keep Zach around me for as long as possible.
