The Double-Tap Accident

BONUS #1: Feet Kicking In The Air.

This bonus chapter takes place between Chapter Twenty-Six: I Despise You. and Chapter Twenty-Seven: Daily Water Intake.

BONUS #1: "Feet Kicking In The Air."

AVEN

I WOKE UP FIRST.

Jay drooled. Not a lot but it was enough to stain against my shirt and enough for me to hold against her in the near future.

The knowledge made me hold in a laugh as she shifted once again and I pulled her in close to me. Her head was pressed against my chest and her arm around my waist which she held onto tighter unconsciously. Her hand was crushed in an awkward position in my chest that I had to adjust her myself before she visibly relaxed.

In my pocket, my phone beeped in my pocket. Quickly, I turned it to silent, lowering the brightness but looking at my phone over her head to not disturb her.

Iman: Wow.

Iman: How am I awake before you?

Iman: Am I gunna have to take the bus?

Iman: Or an Uber? If I take an Uber, can you pay for the uber?

Iman: Please? Love you.

I huffed, just as Jay shifted once again. I turned into a better position with her in my arms, her head on my chest, and no stress on her face. Every time I saw her, I swear she was gaining stress lines.

Me: I'll come get you. Gimme 40 minutes.

Iman: 40? Where are you?

Me: Jay's.

It didn't take three seconds for my phone to start buzzing with his call.

I hung up on him.

He did it again.

I hung up on him.

Iman: Aven.

Me: Immanuel.

Iman: Pick up the phone.

Me: She's sleeping.

For a moment, he didn't respond.

Iman: Well?

Me: What you think happened didn't happen.

Iman: What. A. Shame.

I scoffed, putting my phone down. My apartment was about a twenty-five-minute bus ride from her house. It would take—

She shifted again, burrowing her face in my chest. I wrapped my other arm around her, instantly making sure she was comfortable against me. 

My vision adjusted in the dark. Her room displayed her well. A little messy, the string of clothes on the ground and a pile over her laundry basket made my lips rise knowing there was a chance she would have tried to hide it if she remembered if I was coming over. It was a little like her thoughts, the posters. Her room back home was probably similar. Did she have her posters organized like this or were they scattered around the wall like a teenager's room in the 90s? Probably a mixture of both.

Against me she let out a little sigh, her lips forming a pout. I didn't know if she was a dreamer. The last I had asked her during one of our mindless conversations where we talked about anything or everything, she didn't dream. Not like she said her grandma would have where she'd call their family in the middle of the night, hoping that everyone was okay.