It Started With A Concussion ✔️

Chapter 8

I'm super comfortable.

I feel so relaxed and even find myself at peace. My breaths were even as my back sank into the mattress with ease.

God, I don't want to move.

All of my muscles were untensed, a calm silence filling the room. I know I'm starting to wake up, but I'm not going to open my eyes. I just want to go back to sleep.

I start to move my legs, wanting to roll over and smother the huge pillow I know I have on my bed. As I tried to push onto my side, I felt a weight against my stomach and shoulder.

Confused, I try again but to no avail. Clenching my eyes, I start to wake up, rubbing my hands over my face.

Bringing my right hand down, I lower it to my chest but hit something hard instead. My eyes snap open when I hear a groan.

What the fuck.

There's a mop of hair in my face and in my peripheral vision I can tell this is not my room.

His head starts to move, his arm draped over my stomach, as energy surges through my body.

I gasp at the sudden jolt of electricity, "Oh my god!" I shoot up and push him off of me.

I scramble to the side, not considering where I am on the bed, scooting too far and falling on the floor with a loud thump.

"Ow." I mutter.

I hear him groan from above but can't make it out.

"What the fuck Jackson!" I panic, rubbing over my hip because I landed on it quite hard.

"What?" he questions me in a sleepy voice. "Why are you so loud?"

"I told you to wake me up!" I complain, finally getting to my feet.

"I was tired." he said with his face still against his pillow.

I roll my eyes and think back to how I woke up. Shivering at the thought I wipe my arm and stomach to try and get him off of me.

"Ok, but if you're gonna sleep next to me, stay on your side." I point at him.

His head turns to the other side so he's facing me now. "First off, you moved to the middle of my bed. And you sleep like a rock, so moving you out of the way wasn't an option." he explains.

I cross my arms at the small insult. "Ok, well—just don't sleep on top of me." I make myself clear.

"But you were a good pillow." he says, his eyes still shut.

I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult, but I took it as both. "So you're calling me fat?" I ask him in a joking manner.

"No." His eyes snap open and land on me. "I called you comfortable."

"Whatever." I mumble, finding my phone on his desk.

Picking it up the time pops up on my screen, along with a shit ton of texts. My brows furrow as I read, 1:03.

Looking outside the window it was definitely not dark. That only meant–

"Oh fuck!" I blurt out.

I hear a groan come from Jackson. "You're so loud."

"Jackson get up!" I walk over to the bed in a hurry.

"Why?"

"Because it's one in the afternoon dipshit!" I complain.

He seems unfazed by my tone and doesn't move a muscle. "Even more reason for me not to get up."

"I'm being serious–"