A/N: First story on fictionpress. Current status- excited! I would love to get feedback on this first chapter so thanks for reading.
I wake up to hazel eyes that look darker than usual. The green is almost untraceable even this close, just a few flecks here and there with rich brown holding everything possessively The morning light from the small window behind him is haloing his frame making him look sort of angelic in a way. It looks a bit forlorn though with only his silhouette, an outline, like the sheets of black and white Parisians cut out in your shape. His usually cheerful features lay shadowed as he hovers above me. His hair, his hair is what woke me up. It is precariously dangling in front of my face; just wisping back and forth sweeping across the top of my cheekbones and under my eye. It tickles. Okay, now it's in my eye and that's not as charming.
"Whaaa…?" I say intelligently. The corner of his mouth twitches upward. I clear my throat and try to continue, "What are you doing this close to my face?" I was going to say "all up in my face" but that probably would have been a bit too gangster for me. I lived up with stereotyping brothers, sue me. My voice is raspy from lingering sleep and I bet my drool face looks great too but at least I was able to form a coherent sentence. I do care that my breath probably smells like something died in there and that he's probably inhaling my toxic fumes right now but, what can you do?
He inches his face just a minuscule amount further from mine. Ha! I knew my breath smelled! It's not exactly something to celebrate but he often seems immune to all my other deficiencies or thinks of them as "cute" so… "I was counting your freckles," he says. He lifts up off of me and hops off the bed from where he had been perched.
"… I don't have any freckles."
He looks up and over his shoulder at me from where he was picking up a pair of my jeans, the pair with holes in them at the knees. I'm not picky about clothing but after I let him do the wash that one time and half my clothes were died purpely pink I have learned my lesson. My jeans were the only thing salvageable though they had seen better days. He's a huge sucker for nostalgic memorabilia though and won't let me get rid of them since I wore that pair when we first met. How he remembers these little things is a mystery. I don't even remember if I finished my calculus homework last night.
He shrugs, "I got that line off some romance novel or maybe it was a "What to say to sound sexy" forum… Umm maybe it was a fetish forum?"
He actually has a contemplative expression on his face right now with the whole finger on his chin thing. Is he seriously asking me? I think this should be obvious but he is staring at me like he aspects an answer. At least he used an alliteration. Though, I am not sure if I should be worried about his strange new fixation on forum exploration or not.
"But really I was just bored." Phew, okay, false alarm. We are safe.
Relief and probably a bit of confusion must have depicted itself on my face as my facial expressions played catch up since he starts laughing outright. He even has the audacity to throw the jeans at my face. Well, I never did say he treats memorabilia well. He is someone who can't operate a washing machine properly.
"You are weird," I conclude. Though I have already gotten used to Chris's inability to comprehend personal space a few months ago I am still getting used to his random quirks. Though this is not the weirdest he has been or will be. I am not entirely reassured by this realization.
"Oh come on, you looove me," he sings. "And get up we have to meet up with Mark. You are going to make us late and then I'll have to spank you."
"Did you get that off the fetish forum too?"
He gives me a little wink and taunts, "Who knows love?" in a 'trying to be sultry' 1950's Marilyn Monroe accent. Or maybe it was more like a stripper. A stripper who smoked. I can't help but laugh.
Mark is Chris's ex-boyfriend or one of them at least. Chris is one of those people who can go on being friends with ex's without even the slightest bit of awkward creeping in throughout the transition. Me? Not so much. I shall forever hide from ex's! No, seriously, if I bump into an ex on campus I do the whole unintentional but completely obvious ignore eye contact thing and that's just… well… uncomfortable.
"Uh huh," I mumble and promptly fall back to sleep.
AAN (another author's note): Sorry that this first chapter is a bit short but I'm testing out fictionpress waters and will make future chapters longer!