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─────── ☆*･゜ﾟ･*♡ ───────
Wednesday, October 9th
─────── ☆*･゜ﾟ･*♡ ───────
I suddenly woke up when I felt my pillow becoming too warm for me. I guess I had forgotten to turn the heated blanket off at some point in the night. Although I don't remember falling asleep. Then I heard a groan.
My eyes fly open and I see Ambrose' face close to mine. I let out a soft gasp and pushed myself away from him. When the hell did I fall asleep on Ambrose and how did we get into this position?
There's three knocks on the door, "Ms. Evangeline, dinner time!" Varushka yells through the door. I hear her footsteps retreat.
This wakes up Ambrose and he looks at me confused just as I'm looking back at him confused.
"Sorry for falling asleep on you," I say sheepishly. My cheeks burn at the realization that I had cuddled up with a boy that wasn't my boyfriend.
It was the first time that I actually fell asleep over the last few days. For once I didn't dream about Ethan, or feeling like I was stuck repeatedly dreaming about that day. Being with Ambrose brought a huge sense of comfort to me and it made me feel warm inside.
But I couldn't get used to that idea. Ambrose was just a friend. He was only there for me because I asked him to.
It's fine. He signs. I'm actually wondering why you were crying?
He rubs the sleepiness from his eyes like a toddler would and looks at me with a concerned look. I would ask that question too if someone just broke down in front of me after giving them their belongings.
"Can we not talk about this?" I say, already fidgeting with the hem of the sweater, "Not until I feel ready to do so." I basically say the last part in a low voice, hoping that he wouldn't hear.
He slowly nods, his eyes not leaving my face. I didn't ask for an explanation when he was brooding in his room, so why should I give him one if I'm not ready? Seems fair, right?
"Would you want to stay for dinner?" I ask, hoping that changing the topic wouldn't lead him to pester me to talk.
I guess the nap was longer than I thought, the clock was already reading 8:03 p.m.
He shrugs and then nods his head after he thinks about it for a second. He gets up from my bed and moves around me to head for the door. I follow close behind not before I kick the shirt that was on the ground, under my bed, hoping to forget the reminder.
