the bonus book | ✓

the next morning

The next morning

I wake up and feel someone’s presence beside me. I sleep alone, so I get a little scared. I swallow and look beside me.

God bless my eyes.

Look at that beautiful boy who fell from heaven for me. I prop myself up on my elbows and stare down at him.

Oliver is sleeping peacefully. One of his arms is under his head and the other is on the mattress. His hair, messy, is falling on his forehead. His eyelashes are dark and long. His pink lips are in a straight line. They look inviting.

I sigh inwardly.

“Had your morning dose, did you?” Oliver asks, opening one eye.

Oops. Busted. My face feels hot.

Oliver rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls me towards him.

“Oliver!”

He rolls us over so he is looking straight down at me.

“Good morning,” Oliver says.

I busk in the tone of his morning voice, rough and raspy.

He leans down and kisses me.

“Gwen!” I hear my mom calling me from downstairs.

Crap.

And Oliver Carlson, who is on top of me, is trying to get a French kiss first thing in the morning. I haven't even brushed my teeth.

“I hsjdnt breks mwy deed” I mumble, punching him in the chest, trying to move him.

“Mob ig cohjing de,” I say somehow.

Oliver leans back, looking drowsy. “What?”

“I haven't brushed my teeth,” I say. “Mom is calling me.”

Oliver reluctantly moves. I stand up hurriedly. We have to clean the mess we made on the floor. The mattress has moved from where we set it. The covers and the bedsheet are a mess.

“Move, move,” I say, as I fold the comforter. “Quick!”

“Why?” Oliver asks, folding the other one.

“Why?” I look at him. “Mom might be coming upstairs. You can go down the same way you came up, right?”

“Why do I need to go down?” Oliver asks as he gathers the bedsheets together.

I facepalm. “Do you want Mom to come up and see us? What do you think she will say if she finds you in my room?”

Oliver furrows his eyebrows frowning. “But we only talked and slept, what's wrong with that?”

“Honestly?” I say. We both step off the mattress as we pick it up and place it on my bed.

“She won't believe that. Besides, haven't you left some marks of your crime?” I look at him. “Your godforsaken dictionaries.”

Yes. I see the proud glint on his eyes.

I touch my neck. God knows where it is. And if I remember correctly, there isn't just one.

Oliver comes forward.

“It's here,” he says, touching where my neck meets my shoulder. Then he gathers some strands of my hair and covers it. “Done.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course. Now, go to the roof, and don't worry, I'll help you down.”

Oliver frowns. “But—”