Violet Jackson can barely take a breath of senior year before Flynn Davis walks down the hall of her high school. It takes one look at him to have her world come crashing down.
She thought that Flynn Davis is no more than Sebastian Reynolds, who di...
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I have never been a morning person. Not once. Except for today- I have never felt more alive to wake up. Although I have had less than an hour sleep to bank on, I had watched the digital clock for the rest of the night.
It was five past eight when I remember shutting my eyes, and I have only woken them to see it's about to tick over to nine o'clock. I didn't want to bother Flynn, so I let him sleep peacefully beside me.
I roll over to see if he is still asleep, ignoring the weird feeling between my legs, but there is no trace of him. I flip back over to stare at the ceiling as I think about to now crazy we would of looked late last night- two completely bare teenagers stumbling their way back into the house after spending quite some time outside.
Every detail is still living vividly in my mind, and that's how I want it to stay. Although afterwards the bed was a lot more comfortable for my lower back pains, I don't regret a single moment of losing my virginity outside under the stars.
I don't remember either of us making an effort to bring the blankets, pillows, projector, and our clothes inside last night- but I see them all in the corner of his room on the ground.
I assume he woke the moment I fell asleep, giving him time to bring everything inside. My bag is beside the stairs that lead out of his room, so I peel the blankets off my and make my way towards it.
I throw on my pyjamas I packed for last night, deciding against wearing my clothes since I would prefer to shower first. On a hunt to find where the brunette has disappeared to, I head up the stairs and open his bedroom door to leave.
I easily adjust to the foreign sensation that lingers below my hips, making it better for me to walk without discomfort.
I can faintly hear Flynn's chatter in the direction of the kitchen, but no other voices in the mix. I bite down of my lip to stop a laugh when I think of the image of him speaking out loud to himself. When I step into the kitchen, I am right.
The hazel eyed boy is saying random things about the white machine in front of him. I can't hold back my laughter any longer, which startles him into flinching before spinning around.
The moment of terror I inflicted on him is instantly gone as a large smile settles on his face. He ignores the white machine that was causing him grief, leaving it to walk in my direction. "Good morning." I quietly say as he presses a kiss to my cheek.
"Good morning, indeed." I notice he is wearing a clean outfit- a plain tee with an open flannel shirt and black jeans. His hair is still slightly damp, allow me to believe he has showered since waking.
My eyes scan over his outfit again. It sends waves of nostalgia through me from how boys on television shows would dress growing up. It always was so appealing, yet barely anyone wears the style anymore. I loved the look of it on Flynn.
