Road Trip. | ✓ | [ e d i t i n g ]

Chapter twenty-three;;

Mornings were contradicting. They were that point of day where you have to make a decision: Get up and face the day, or waist away in a comfortable prison. I, of course, prefered the latter, but beggers can't be choosers.

So, siting cross legged at the edge of the bed, I watched Nick as he sleep. As weird as it was, I couldn't help it. There weren't many times I could stare at Nick without it being completely rude; this was that time. And he looked fantastic. Sometimes I thought the sun knew him better than everybody else, because the way the rays fell on his skin was insane. The covers had found their way around his hips; his shirt lifted to his ripcage, nearing his right pecktoral muscle. I couldn't help but notice his sweatpants hanging a little low and his hair tousling around his head like an inverted halo. Sue me, I noticed the faint v.

one arm was draped across his stomach, the other behind his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair. As he shifted slightly, I wondered if we were considered an item now. I was fully aware Nick liked me and my stomach obvious liked him - I had said as much - but wa that it? or did we have to declare it? every other boy I had dated had asked me out, making it almost painfully obvious that we were a thing.

But Nick and I? did that count? Why did I even bother wondering about it.

Pulling out my phone, I realized it was nearing nine and we probably needed to get going if we wanted to ever get home. Leaning forwards onto my knees, I grabbed he shirt and shook him slightly, " hey arson?" Then I whistled, "woohoo, Arrrsooon. Time to get up."

Or not.

I ruffled his hair, shook his arm, poked his tummy. This wasn't going to be easy - Nick was a freaking brick. Shuffling forward, I straddled my thighs on either side of his tummy and tickled his sides. He rolled, sending me off the bed and onto the floor. Asshole. Sitting up, I blew a strand of hair out of my face and huffed.

Take three. I gathered myself and went to the kitchen, taking a handfull of ice out of the freezer and to Nick. Shoving it under his shirt, I waited for the cold to set in.

some things are worth video taping.

First he gasped, hands flying to his chest with lightning speed. He went to stand, but this caused some cubes to slide into his pantline. My hand flew to my mouth and Nick clenched his teeth. I could only imagine where that ice traveled... He twisted and walked quietly into the bathroom. I could hear a steady line of profanities slicking past his teeth.

Snickering to myself, I casually whipped out my phone. I was faintly aware of the door opening and Nick walking out with an expression that said he was less than amused. This is all trivial though, before next thing I know, his hands have my sides and he's lightly tossing me onto the bed. His fingers fly to my ribs and I'm subdued to a torture of tickle.

In a desperate attempt to fight back, I pushed at his chest before nudging my phalanges (for lack of better word) into his stomach. We rolled, which put me on top of him, legs once again straddling his hips. Then he flipped us, and fumbled, landing with his elbows on either side of my face, nose just slightly brushing mine. His breath was a bit harsh, chest expanding and collapsing, eyes flicking from my irises to my lips.

Then we moved closer, our faces working on their own accord. I could feel the heat of his lips, the softness just barely against my mouth - we both moved apart rapidly, he pushing back and me moving to the side. Scrambling up, we both walked out of the room and did separate things for breakfast. Where I went for the poptart, Nick was scooping himself a bowl of plain yogurt.

With short side glances, I could see that he wanted to start a conversation. I frowned and made sure he didn't. Mostly because I was slightly frustrated I hadn't been more brave and actually went for the kill, slightly because he didn't kiss me.