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Half Truths - chapter 22

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Chapter Twenty Two

It takes a while for Hannah to rise to consciousness.

It’s because she’s warm, and cosy, and feels indescribably content, somehow. The comforter is soft against her skin, and even though the smell isn’t familiar, it is nice, and reminds her of something familiar, and Hannah turns in her sleep, happy.

This side is equally warm, and when her hand encounters another one, Hannah lets her fingers wrap through long fingers.

There’s a mumble next to her, and it is that which really drags her to awareness.

She opens her eyes, and there is Grace, blinking sleepily back at her. Grace’s eyes widen slightly in recognition after a moment, and then she rolls, pressing her face into her pillow.

“Mmpfft… don’t look at me. I’ll be all sleep faced and covered in drool.”

Hannah snorts, and rolls onto her back, trying hard to not grin at the ceiling like an idiot. The move somehow reminds her nose that everything in here smells like Grace, and Hannah can’t believe this is happening, that everything could be this easy.

Grace’s hand comes reaching across to find hers again, and Hannah lets Grace play with her fingers for the moment, before capturing her hand and squeezing, once.

“This is a good morning.”

Grace hums in agreement, before removing her hand to place it instead over Hannah’s eyes, to her surprise. Hannah then feels soft lips kissing quickly at her cheek, and then Grace mumbles in her ear “It is a good morning, but I’m about to go to shower, and if you open your eyes before I’m ready to be looked at there will be trouble. And maybe a murder.”

Hannah giggles, and then nods solemnly.

“Deal. Although I’m sure that morning you is just as cute as any other you; so I think it probably would matter if I snuck a quick look at you and maybe kissed you a little bit.”

“Oh god no- morning breath!”

Before Hannah can ask which of them has morning breath (probably both she decides, so would it matter?) Grace kisses her cheek again, and then slides away from her.

“I’m serious - no looking!”

Hannah shrugs, having a weird feeling in her stomach about how much of a girl Grace is and how much she likes it. She keeps her eyes closed while Grace shuffles about in the room momentarily, and then the door clicks closed, and she thinks it is probably safe to open her eyes.

She sits up in bed slightly, absentmindedly adjusting her t-shirt and running her hands through her hair, and then reaches for her phone.

A significant part of her expects a million messages from Mamrie, so Hannah is surprised when there is nothing in her inbox.

Maybe Mamrie is cool with things now.

(Maybe hell has frozen over.)

Hannah sinks back down again, to where the pillows and sheets smell like Grace.

It’ll be fine. Mamrie is her sister.

It’ll be fine.

…

Grace likes seeing Hannah with wet hair, she decides. Hannah just emerged from the shower in yesterday’s clothes, ruffling her hair sheepishly with a borrowed towel, and Grace kind of wants to pull it away from her, and kiss her mouth and push the drying locks out of her eyes, until her hair dries in crazy unconscious shapes.