Definition Diner

39. dogs

Sunday, November 23

To say that I woke up willfully would be a lie. A massive one.

Because when I woke up, Cade's arm was still slung over my stomach like I was the teddy bear he was so desperate to hold. And that wasn't all of it. His head, sometime in the few hours where I had actually fallen asleep, had found its way to the crook of my neck.

I wasn't woke up by him at all. He was still sleeping peacefully, breath hot on my neck, and any snores that could have been being muffled by my shirt.

I'm honestly surprised how he managed to barely move at all in his sleep, usually I woke up eight times and found myself in ten different positions. But Cade was still as a rock, my body holding him into place.

My shirt had risen up, most definitely from the little movement that I still managed to get away within my sleep. And once I realized it, I couldn't get my mind off the feeling of Cade's skin on mine. The space hidden underneath his arm feels like a thousand needles were being poked at me. I shouldn't be feeling this way.

What I was woken up from was Colin's not so sneaky peer into the room.

The door, which desperately needs a dosing of DW-40, had moved ajar. I would have thought it was because of Colin's dog, except he doesn't have a dog.

At that point I was no longer in an in-between state of consciousness and sleep, my senses were fully awake and I was trying my hardest to give Colin a death glare without moving so that I didn't wake up Cade.

Except it wasn't just Colin in the doorway. I could make out Nate's hair before anything else, tussled around as if he just had the worst night's sleep of his life. And then Shan's face pops up above Colin's head, blocking off the view I had of Nate entirely, the only explanation being that he had lifted up so that she could see.

We're their personal romance movie.

Despite the fact that I had been glaring at their faces for a solid thirty seconds, they didn't move a muscle. Like when you're at the zoo and desperately trying to wake up the animals so that they can pay you attention even though they're stuck in a stuffy cage far away from home. But Cade and I were the sleeping lions and the three of them were the eight-year-olds with sweaty hands and mouths covered in the remnants of melted cotton candy.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" After another thirty seconds, I break, trying to keep my voice quiet as possible while making sure they could hear me.

Finally, they notice me, acting as if I hadn't made eye contact with any of them for the last minute.

Colin gives a sly smile. "Usually he's a morning person, wanted to make sure you didn't suffocate him with your pillow."

The lie is horrible. Absolutely atrocious, and convincing no one. The only thing that he is able to manage is waking up Cade.

The first breath of consciousness is shallow, like when you wake up your grandfather after he falls asleep for the fifth time on Christmas morning, neck bent at an odd angle and acting as if you're in the wrong.

But then the second wave hits, I can feel his eyelashes flutter against my chin and have to stop the urge to scratch the tickle that it causes. His arm closes around my middle a fraction bit tighter, trying to grab on to the sleep that's slipping through his fingers.

And finally the last wave. Realization.

He lifts his head up first, looking around the room like the walls will give him answers. He finds his arm next, looking down at it like he forgot it was attached to his body. Which causes him to finally look at the person he was laying on top of, leaving me with a very up close and personal view of the pieces clicking together in Cade's head. So close that I can see the patterns on his irises and the sleep stuck in the corner of his eyes.