FIX ME - Paul Lahote Story

Chapter 4

The smell of pancakes was prominent in the air, but despite the rumbling in my stomach, I chose not to get up for breakfast just yet. Instead I leaned back into Paul's chest and attempted to soak up the feeling of him cuddled up behind me for as long as I could. I tried to enjoy the moment while it lasted, because despite not wanting it to end, I knew realistically that it wouldn't last much longer. Once Paul woke up, the moment would be gone and I didn't know when or if I'd have it again.

I knew the cuddling didn't matter to Paul, he knew I was an affectionate person and deep down he was too, and since we'd been best friends for pretty much our entire lives, it didn't mean anything to him if we just cuddled. He was also used to it since we'd gotten into a habit of sleeping in the same bed ever since we were 4 and had our first sleepover together, but at times like this, I could pretend that it was something more . . . even if was only for a short while.

I sighed happily, a small smile on my face as I relaxed, feeling truly content for a change.

It was barely even 5 minutes later that Paul began stirring, a groan leaving his lips before he shifted away and suddenly his arms were no longer around me. I'd known it wouldn't last long, that Paul would move away as soon as he woke up and noticed our position, I had been expecting it too but I still found myself feeling disappointed when it actually happened.

I turned to face him and saw him laying flat on his back, eyes closed and a smile on his face as he stretched his arms above his head. I felt my throat go dry when I noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt, had I died and gone to heaven?

Of course, there was a stupid part of me that wondered where his shirt had gone and I almost face palmed . . . as if that was more important than looking at a shirtless Paul Lahote lying right next to me.

He hummed quietly as he ran his hand over his face and down his chest, finally resting it just above his belly button and letting out a quiet yawn that sounded more like a sigh. I once again had to consider the possibility that maybe I had died and gone to heaven. Nobody looked that good when they'd only just woken up, and I found it hard to believe he was actually real.

He obviously still looked tired, having literally just woken up only seconds before. His messy hair was falling in his face, and one cheek had a couple lines on it, most likely the imprints of the creases in the pillow case he'd been resting on, but he still managed to look good. How was he even real?

Paul shifted slightly and ran his hands over his hair, causing the sheets to quietly rustle under him. "Morning, Cait," he said softly, his voice deeper than usual and still thick with sleep.

An embarrassing exclamation of: 'holy mother of flaming fudge monkeys!' ran through my head as I heard Paul's morning voice. If that didn't show how gone I was on him, then I didn't know what would. Paul sounded so hot that my brain pretty much short circuited and I almost forgot how to behave like a normal person. It was fair to say I had a little bit of a thing for his morning voice . . . well, maybe 'a little bit' was an understatement. It was more like a huge infatuation, but I felt it was justified, I could hardly be blamed for reacting in such a way when Paul looked and sounded as good as he did. Who wouldn't be obsessed?

I shook those thoughts away and turned my attention back to the real world. I looked over at Paul, my mouth opened to respond but I noticed that he was scratching his jaw and the action made his bicep tense in a way that made my mind go blank and had me struggling to look away.

As far as I was concerned, Paul needed to come with a warning label. 'Prolonged contact may result in: sweaty palms, a dry throat, accelerated heart rate, short term memory loss, inability to speak coherently or at all, and redness around the face and neck.'