surprises

➢ surprise thirty

authors note: hey, hi, hey. what even is writing, what is life. i don't know but here's a chapter YAYYYYYYYY  <3 please vote and leave a comment, they make my day :) 

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     My forgetfulness was not a good trait.

     I chucked my pyjamas on quickly and grabbed the small, thin object off my cluttered desk. Quietly opening my bedroom door, I tip-toed down the hallway, trying not to wake anyone. Once I reached the right door, I knocked quietly, hoping he wasn’t asleep yet.

     After a few moments of waiting, a shirtless Lachie opened the door. My eyes voluntarily drifted down, before I snapped my head up and smiled at him, my cheeks probably bright red. “Um, hey.” I said awkwardly.

     As mine did, his eyes darted down, and I sucked in a breath. “Why are you outside bedroom in your pyjamas?” He asked, humour lacing his tone. His face looked purely confused, however. I could’ve waited till morning but I wanted to do it today.

     Holding up the badly wrapped tiny rectangle in my hand, I tried not to look as awkward as I did on the inside. “I had to give you your present.” I stated, looking up at him, hoping he wouldn’t shut the door in my face for being such a dope. Instead, a humorous smile played on his lips and he opened his door wider, signing for me to come in.

     I walked inside, looking around his room, dimly lit by a lamp. It was fairly normal, but had a whole portion of one of his walls taken up with photos. I smiled at that.

     “You know this could’ve waited till morning?” He asked me, chuckling.

     “Yeah, but I wanted to do it today.” I told him honestly, seating myself on the edge of his bed, and watching him as he sat down next to me and placed the present in his lap.

     “So it’s got nothing to do with wanting to come into my room at eleven thirty at night?” He teased, nudging me with his shoulder.

     I laughed. “No?” However it was supposed to come out as a statement, rather than a question that I feel my subconscious was directing towards myself. He fought a smile, and lifted up the gift. “It’s a bad gift, and I didn’t get you a card, but no one would tell me what you wanted and I’m absolutely terrible at writing cards--” I rambled, smiling when he clamped a hand over my mouth. Making sure I was finished, he took his hand away and attempted to unwrap my present.

     I had attacked it with sticky tape this morning, hoping that it would look somewhat decent. Anyway.

     Once he successfully ripped the wrapping paper off, he pulled the gift card out and grinned, reaching over to ruffle my hair. “That’s cute.” He chuckled. I threw him a look, and he grinned at me. “Thanks though, I can get a…something.” He trailed off, and I covered my face with my hands and fell back onto the bed, laughing.

     “I’ll get you something better next year, promise.”

     He chuckled, and fell back on the bed with me, our shoulders touching, turning so his face was to mine. “Sounds good.”

     It was in that moment that I realised how close our bodies were. His gaze fell from my eyes to my lips, and I wanted nothing more than for him to press his own against them. He met my eyes once more, his minty breath fanning my face. I moved a mere centimetre closer to him, and that seemed to be all he needed. Lifting himself up, his face hovered over mine for a fraction of a second, before crashing his lips to mine. I immediately reacted, my lips matching his and my hands moving up to thread through his messy hair, something I had been itching to do for a while.