Single But Engaged ✔️

20: I'm going to shrink those lying balls of yours!

2 years ago

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I snuggled into my pillow, which for some reason felt a lot firmer than usual. But it was in a good kind of way — the kind that left me smiling contentedly even in my half-conscious state. 

I could stay here forever. 

But apparently, my pillow was determined to do the opposite of that, given how it seemed to be slowly prying away from my grasp. So, I held on tighter, only to feel it stealthily pulling away yet again, leaving me whining: "stop moving already and just let me grab you."

"Well, that's one morning line I haven't heard before," came the response.

My brain's reaction came in three-tiers. First — 'my pillow could talk.' Second — 'wow, my pillow could talk!' Third — 'oh my god, how the hell was my pillow able to talk?' 

The third was just the stimulation my eyes needed to pop open in one swift motion. However, opening was just the first step, because it was soon widening to the size of saucers as I took in the sight in front of me. 

I could literally feel the wheels in my head spinning as I analyzed my current situation — lying on my bed and clinging like a monkey to none other than…

I jolted up at lightning speed, regretting the action immediately. Coal diggers seemed to have settled in my head, because that had to be the only explanation for the heavy pounding in that area. However, the internal splitting of my head didn't stop me from staring alarmed at the boy in front of me. 

And like every mature eighteen-year-old, the first words that left my mouth were bursting with intelligence. "You...who...here...but how...why are...how are...." Thankfully, I soon remembered the rules of sentence formation, causing me to add, "how did you get into my bed?" 

"Believe me, I've asked myself the same thing," he answered blithely. But if anything, that just added to my confusion.

Ok, Aria, deep breaths. Try to assess the situation calmly. 

I mean, I've woken up to a guy in my bed before. Well, the only difference was that he's a big stuffed bunny named Mr. Pickles, and definitely not an actual guy without his shirt on and...wow!

Hey, in my defense, I was perplexed, not blind. Still, there were way more important things at hand than ogling at the perf...you know what? It doesn't matter. As I said, there were more important things to consider right now. And by that, I meant why a guy who for some reason, looked oddly familiar, was in my bed. 

Seriously, the more I stared at him, the more certain I became that I'd seen him somewhere before. But where? 

'Then I guess that makes you an optimist who chooses to buy into concepts like true love which do not exist.'

And that was when it clicked. 

"You're the guy from the party," I exclaimed, eyeing him warily. Just to be sure, I took another look around, only to confirm that this indeed was my room — which then begged one question. "How are you here?" 

But even as the question left my lips, my brain had already started conjuring a few ideas of its own, leaving me to let out a soft gasp. "Oh my god, are you...a stalker? Did you follow me back here?"