Never Ever

42| Wrinkles and all

I wake up expecting to feel different like they do in the movies. But surprisingly, I'm still the same Ever, just happier. And best of all, there isn't a single inch of me that doubts Noah's feelings after last night. In fact, I trust him completely.

Snuggling further into his covers, I keep my eyes closed, ready to replay last night when the sound of pans clattering in the kitchen startles me awake. My eyes scan the empty space beside me, realizing Noah isn't, in fact, next to me but in the kitchen. A delightful aroma of waffles wafts in from beneath the bedroom door.

I scramble forward and listen closely, catching him singing his best rendition of "I'm Just Ken," which pulls the biggest laugh from me. I swear, even if I were the unhappiest girl in the world, one minute around Noah would make it impossible not to smile.

He waits until he finishes the second verse before strolling into the bedroom, shirtless and as Greek-god-like as ever in his black boxers, holding a tray of waffles and orange juice. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I sense a faltering of that boyish confidence in his gaze, as if he's trying to gauge how I'm feeling after last night.

Pretty damn amazing. I smile to let him know it, comforted by the relief in his eyes. He places the tray on my lap, and the warmth of the waffles mingles with the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. His eyes glint as he leans in for a sweet morning kiss, and I savor the taste of maple syrup on his lips.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispers, tucking my hair back to keep it clear of the syrup. I look up briefly into those dark eyes and can't help but blush. "I hope you like waffles," he continues, "'cause I just spent the better part of an hour Googling recipes."

"Who doesn't like waffles?" I peer down at the syrupy, steaming stack, and my stomach lets out the biggest rumble in confirmation.

Noah chuckles, propping himself on his side to get a better view of me. "Jesse hates them. He figures if he's going to compromise all his hard work with carbs, it should be for something more exciting than a waffle."

"Well, he's missing out – especially if they're yours." I grab my knife and fork, cutting off the edge of a waffle before popping it into my mouth and chewing. Noah leans closer to watch me, earnestly waiting for my reaction. I chew once, then twice, trying to keep the disgust off my face as it dawns on me that ninety percent of the batter in my mouth is raw. "Mmmm. They're delicious, thank you."

I've barely swallowed when he swiftly takes my knife and fork, places them on the plate, and puts the whole tray on the floor out of reach. "Hey," I say, pouting. "What did you do that for?"

He leans closer, gently cupping my face in his hand before resting his mouth near my ear. "Lying has never been your strong suit, Blue." His breath becomes warmer, fanning my jaw as he angles his mouth toward my neck. "But thank you for thinking of my feelings."

My body effortlessly melds into his as he pulls me in his arms. His nose traces a path down my neck, along my jawline, reaching my lips, where he gently presses a kiss. "When do you have to leave for practice?" I murmur because the thought of letting him out of this bed makes my stomach knot. All I want to do today is spend every moment with Noah; finals and swim meets be damned.

"Not for another hour," he says, sliding a hand beneath the covers, his fingers gently tracing patterns over my bare chest. His thumb dances over me in soft, circular motions, all while he playfully nibbles on my lip. My thoughts feel hazy; I need help to think straight. "Wanna take a swim with me, Blue?"

Half distracted, I pull back to look at him. "I don't have my swimsuit–" But Noah dashes into the bathroom before I finish my sentence. He grabs a warm towel and lifts me to my feet, wrapping it around my naked body.