undeniable

37| hospitals

WAKING UP WITH the man I love is amazing.

Waking up wearing his clothes, his arms tightly wrapped around me, is even better.

Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I blindly grab at his phone to check the time.

Lifting it up, I read the numbers on the screen.

Nine fifty two.

I quickly wriggle our from underneath Sam's arm, ignoring when he grumbles something incoherent and reaches for me, and start looking for the boxers I kicked off last night.

I had a big hoodie and boxers given to me as pajamas, I used the boxers as shorts and they got too hot seeing as Sam is a whole damn furnace, so I pulled them off.

The hoodie was bigger, it's not like I'm going to hell or anything.

"You're going to hurt yourself," Sam mumbles, an arm thrown over his eyes, while I try and fail to shove my foot through the leg hole.

I don't even bother asking how he knew what I was going without looking at me, and just ignore the comment.

I manage to save myself from falling on my ass, but it's at the cost of looking like an idiot.

"Are you good?" He asks sleepily, peeking up at me through his long dark lashes.

"I'm fine." I roll my eyes, getting down on my hands and knees to look under the bed for my phone.

Where the hell is it?

"It's on my desk," he yawns, rolling on his side and stretching.

"Thanks,"

Quickly grabbing it off the desk, I see that it's at a whopping twelve percent. Yay.

"Why are you in such a rush?" He asks, watching me pull him phone off the charger and hand it to him, putting mine there instead.

"Because it's almost ten and we aren't at school."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Your brothers messaged me late last night and told me to let you sleep in and that you could skip if you wanted. Take a long weekend." He says, pushing himself up on his elbows.

I just nod, the weight of yesterday suddenly crashing down on me.

Oh right. My shit dad came back wanting forgiveness. Fun.

I climb back into the bed, laying down beside him, and he holds me to his chest.

When he presses kisses to the side of my neck, I'm reminded of a more positive thing that happened last night.

I love him.

He loves me.

We said it.

As if he read my thoughts, he whispers against my skin, "I love you,"

I flush deeply, my skin on fire at the way it sounds with his rough morning voice, and through a smile I reply, "I love you."

He tightens his arms around me, and he says, "Quick warning, those three words may be thrown into every sentence I say for the next few days. 'Cause I love you."

This makes me laugh, turning in his arms until I can kiss him, morning breath and all.

"Oh good, we're going to be equally annoying then," I tell him, giggling against his lips.

"I opened my eyes two minutes ago, why are you so excited?" He mumbles, pushing my lower back closer to him, and I only reply by pinching his arm.