❝Why, darling, I don't live at all when I'm not with you.❞ -Earnest Hemingway
I have never been a morning person. For as long as I can remember, I preferred the night sky and long sleeps. One time, my mother had thrown a bucket of water on me in attempts to wake me up, but all I had done was gotten up and gone to her bed, before falling back asleep in seconds. She didn't try to wake me up after that.
Yet today, when I awaken, I am content. I had the best nights sleep and I am beyond comfortable.
The smell of vanilla and hazelnut surrounds me and an arm wraps around my waist securely. As I open my eyes, I take in Noah's face and immediately panic.
Out of instinct, I shove Noah off my bed.
"Ow!" Noah exclaims, rubbing the back of his head. "What the fuck, love?"
"Sorry!" I scramble out of bed. "I just didn't remember you slept over."
"Girls don't normally kick me out of bed so quickly." Noah looks up at me and winks.
I roll my eyes. "You have to climb out the window."
Noah looks at me in disbelief. "We're on the second floor."
"And what about it?"
Noah shakes his head slowly. "The things I do for you."
He stretches, his arms above his head. His t-shirt moves up ever so slightly, and I can't help but appreciate the view for a second. He notices my stare and smirks, but doesn't say anything.
I open the window for him and motion with my arm for him to leave. He pouts and kisses my forehead, before climbing over the ledge and shimmying himself down the wall by gripping onto the rose trellis.
"À bientôt, ma belle." Noah salutes with his hand and walks down the sidewalk. I watch as he disappears around the corner of the block.
After washing up, I head downstairs to get some breakfast. My parents are both up, my father in the kitchen and my mother reading the newspaper at the table.
"Morning, honey," My mom says, looking up from her newspaper. "Good sleep?"
I nod and smile subconsciously. "Can I have some coffee?"
My dad passes me a cup of coffee and turns to me to say, "Does your good sleep have anything to do with the boy who slept over last night?"
My jaw drops. How had they seen? I turn to look out the kitchen window, and realize that it is directly under my bedroom. It would be extremely easy to see a boy shimmying down the side of the house from here.
"He wasn't supposed to sleep over. We fell asleep watching a movie."
My mom ignores my words nonchalantly, "You should have invited him for breakfast. It's a shame you made him climb out a window. He seemed like a nice boy, and that's not how you treat a nice boy."
I groan in annoyance. "Alright, alright, what do you guys want to stop the teasing?"
"Invite him for dinner sometime," My mom says after a moment of pondering. "We want to meet him."
"Fine, deal," I sigh in defeat. "I'm going to start packing for the grad trip on Monday."
My father nods. "Tell the boy that even though you're on the mountains, I find out everything. If he hurts you, he's dead."
"Right," I drawl. My father's about as harmless as a puppy. "His name is Noah, by the way."
My dad lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God it isn't Joshua."
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Falling in Love
Teen Fiction❝I never used to believe in soulmates, but now I find myself questioning every thought I once had about love. It was almost as though love was too weak a word for what I felt for him, that perhaps soulmate is indeed the correct term. Perhaps every s...
