Sketch

28 - Emmy

Dedicated to SamasaurusRexx!

When I open my eyes in the morning I see blue walls instead of red.  I frown for the slightest of moments until my sleep muddled head clears to remind me of the spider incident last night.  The bed's warm, the duvet soft on my skin, and I turn over slowly to see Sam lying next to me.  There's a couple of inches between us.  If I move my hand from under my cheek I could touch his face.  I bite my lip against a smile.

Sam's curled into a ball, his knees up near his chest.  The covers are up against his chin.  He looks so childlike when he sleeps, it's hard to imagine that he's the same guy who would win hands down in a glaring contest.  His dark hair's a mess, sweeping over his lidded eyes.  His skin's pale, but not deathly white, and his eyebrows are strange.  I'm not sure if it's the way he's got his eyes screwed up, but one looks slightly bigger than the other, like someone's shaved one of them off at one point.  It's an interesting quirk that makes me smile and I make a mental note to ask Ollie about it later.

My hand's beginning to go numb under my cheek so I shift positions, lying on my back, but still facing him.  I get the urge to touch his hair, which still looks as soft as it had yesterday.  My hair goes lank if I don't wash it every day.  My fingers are millimetres from Sam's face when his eyes snap open.  I raise my arms into the air like I'm stretching, my heart beating hard at almost being caught.  What the hell had I been about to do?  You can't just stroke someone's hair.

Sam seems to have the same train of thought.  "What are you doing?"

I give him a guilty smile.  "Nothing."

He lowers the covers slightly, revealing a small portion of his blue pyjama top.  "It looked like you were about to touch my face."

I lower my arms, resting them on my stomach.  "Hair."

He rubs his eyes.  "What?"

"Your hair," I confess.  "Not your face."

He frowns, scooting back from me ever so slightly.  "Why?

I shrug against the mattress.  "It looks soft."

"Right.  That's not creepy at all."

I roll my eyes and push myself up from the bed.  The covers move when I do, dragging off of Sam as well.  He clutches the duvet, a slight glare being sent my way.

"It's called shampoo."

"What?"

He sits up too, keeping the duvet up to his chest.  "My hair.  It's soft because I use shampoo."

I smile.  "Did you get that joke from the same book as the 'it's called washing powder' comment?"

His eyes glaze over for a second and I notice a ghost of a smile on his lips.  "I suppose so."

"I might have to borrow it sometime," I say, sliding out from beneath the covers.  I stand up, pulling my shorts back down from where they'd ridden up during sleep, and cross to his desk to grab my hoody.  I can hear the TV on in the lounge and look at the clock next to the door to see that it's almost ten in the morning.  "I'm going to get some breakfast," I say.

"Why are you telling me?" he asks, a smirk on his face.  "Planning on coming back here afterwards?"

I jut a hip out and level my gaze at him.  "Maybe."

He blinks hard and I laugh.

"See you later, Sam."

I'm still smiling when I step into the lounge.  I shut the bedroom door behind me and the conversation that had been going on before suddenly stops.  I look up as I zip up my hoody to see Ollie and Vince on the sofas, still in their night wear.  It's the girl with them that holds my gaze the longest though.  She's got raven hair and an air of confidence that's too much to take in when I've only just woken up.