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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN morning, his place, burnt toast, sunday
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REAL LIFE
LUNA WOKE UP that Sunday morning to her head laying on a chest and a hand running through her brown locks of hair.
Her eyes slowly fluttered open, only to be met with a room that was not hers — no piano, no desk with a stream setup, no string lights on the wall. The sun was shining through the bottom of the curtains of the room, casting golden rays across the carpet that was not her carpet. She blinked a couple of times to regain her surroundings, but when she glanced down, she saw her hand was gently fisting a shirt on another person — and that's when she remembered.
Memories of last night came back to her all at once. A heart-to-heart with Mary Jane, a whole big confession speech to Noah, kissing him without running away, a hug with a kiss to the top of her head, trading kisses throughout the rest of the night, Noah arguing with her to not go back home, him giving her a t-shirt and sweatpants to sleep in, falling asleep with him right next to her.
She picked her head up. Noah, a cluster of messy long hair and freckles and bright eyes, was looking down at her with so much adoration that Luna started to think that the birds would start fucking singing outside. Luna wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream, but Noah's hand hadn't left her hair, and it felt so real, that Luna was sure she was living it.
Noah smiled sleepily at her. "Hi, pretty girl."
"Hi," Luna replied — her mind screaming OH MY GOD!!!! at the nickname — while propping her chin on his chest so she could continue looking at him. "What time is it?"
"Nine."
"Wow, I didn't know that you could wake up this early."
Noah scoffed, making her laugh. "I actually skipped working out this morning to stay here with you, so you're welcome."
"I'm flattered, actually," Luna responded. "Besides, who wants to work out on a Sunday morning? Sundays are for snuggles, in case you didn't know."
"Oh, is that so?" Noah asked, the arm around her tightening. "And who exactly were you snuggling with prior, Lunes?"
"Mary Jane. She never told you about our Sunday morning rituals?"
