Liquid Feels - Book 3 - DP Series - Complete

28. Creep

It's Christmas morning, and though it's almost ten, not another soul is awake in this entire house. I sit tapping the side of my empty mug, deliberating over grabbing another steaming hot chocolate. I'd gone to the gas station down the street at nine this morning, after being up for two hours and bored out of my mind. I came back with cinnamon rolls, donuts, bacon, and a box of hot chocolate packets, the ones with the mini-marshmallows—because what other type is worthy of walking through half a foot of snow for?

I'd hoped to find the rest of the family up when I got home, but it seems that being out of their typical Christmas routine has sucked the energy from their bodies. Or, maybe they fear Seth's family and are seeking the safety of their rooms for as long as possible. Apparently, Hope and I got Seth's room, my parents got the spare, and Seth took the couch. That's the most surprising part about my morning. That boy sure sleeps like the dead.

Standing, I place my mug in the sink and step through the archway into the living room. There he is, snoring in the most peaceful way possible. One hand is resting on his chest while the other is draped over the edge of the couch, grazing the carpet. Unfortunately, it's in that moment, while I stand creeping on the boy I love, that my mom decides to clear her throat.

Jumping, I glare at her, shaking my head in annoyance as I stifle a laugh. Though she's already aware of what's happening in my heart, it doesn't make getting caught any less awkward. I probably looked like a fool gazing at him with a little smile on my lips and hearts floating in my eyes. Just the image of what I might have looked like is comical.

She quietly pads into the kitchen and I hurry to make her a cup of hot chocolate. We spend twenty minutes in hushed chatter when I hear movement from the other room. A moment later, Seth enters, hair askew and lips tugged into a lopsided grin. He grunts a hoarse 'good morning' and then trudges to the cabinet to the left of the sink. He clinks and shuffles and pours and a few minutes later, his coffee is ready.

He turns, eyes still shining with pleasure as he sips his bitter brew, a sleepy boyish grin on his lips.

"Ready for lunch?" I tease, causing him to pause half-sip. "It's ten-thirty."

"Yeah well," he takes a sip, "unlike sleeping beauty, I didn't have the luxury of going to bed at eleven."

"Why's that?" I challenge, arms crossed.

He takes another drink. "Company."

I watch him, his expression blank as he moves to take the seat his mom had occupied last night before she'd gone ballistic. I'm seated straight across from him, so I'm able to get a clear view of his exhaustion. He rests his forearms on the edge of the table, mug between his hands as he slumps forward. I swear he must yawn between every sip and I find curiosity brewing as dark as his coffee inside my curious mind.

"Who?"

He doesn't lift his head, but I see his eyes raise to meet mine. He shakes his head and mutters, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Should I get breakfast started?" my mom jumps in, anxious to escape the conversation even though I know she'll ask me all about it later. She likes to pretend she's being decent and offering privacy, but where my curious nature came from is no secret.

"Sure," I tell her, grateful that she's giving us some space. I flash a look at Seth, "Want to sit on the porch?"

Seth nods and we both bundle up to face the outdoors. I even snag a flannel blanket from the couch on the way out. The air is frigid but for once there's no breeze. We sit in plastic chairs on the tiny concrete porch and stare out at the quiet street. There's one man, a scarf wrapped almost completely around his head and fluffy earmuffs covering his ears, trying to maneuver his bicycle down the snow-covered sidewalk. But, aside from him, the world seems completely still.