𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲; 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐚

chapter nineteen

BRANDON
chapter nineteen

The sun had yet to rise in the sky when the alarm went off in the morning.

I roll over and turned it off before turning over to look at Effie, who even with her tousled hair and gaping mouth, still managed to look beautiful.

"Effie, baby." I hum.

Only a slight stir in her sleeping position occured.

I grin to myself and remove the covers from both of our bodies.

"Sunshine, we have to go to the aiport." I mumur as my face was buried in the crook of her neck, peppering light kisses on the delicate skin.

A groan left her lips as she awakens.

"What time is it?" Is the first thing that she cares to ask.

I sit up so I was looking down at her,"It's 4am."

She smiles all of a sudden and places a light hand on my cheek,"You look adorable without your glasses."

I shake my head,"Oh please, I'm way to masculine to be referred to as such things." I tease, leaning down and giving her a quick kiss on her lips.

I pull away, my face still hovering over hers, our noses centimeters away from touching.

"We better get ready." She says,"Our uber should be here soon."

"Right you are." I sigh,"I'd love to lay here for endless more hours with you though."

I slip out of bed and watch her roll her eyes jokingly,"You are so cliché, Brandon."

I grin as I slip a t-shirt over my head,"I can be the Romeo to your Juliet." I tease, knowing how much Effie loathed William Shakespeare's reenactment of true love.

"Don't test me, Arreaga." The girl who when on flat ground barely met my shoulder, taunts as she rolls out of bed.

"What are you going to do if I, Brandon Arreaga, do decide to go as far as to test you?" I grin, running my hand through the mess on my head.

"I have a lot of tricks up my sleeve, B." She says before disappearing into the bathroom.

"Okay but foreal, I could seriously see myself being the peanut butter to your jelly." I call from the bedroom.

"That's completely barbaric, Brandon. If you're going to talk all lovey dovey to me, at least be a bit creative, you know?" She responds, her voice muffled by the thickness of the door.

"I see," I mutter more or so to myself.

"How do you feel about being the nutella to my pancakes?"