His Blue ✓

41| Causes

     Everytime Kyle seems to disappear from my life, he shows back up- more venomous than ever.

     I look away from the ceiling. I notice that Anson's room is tidier than last time I was here.

   Down the hall, the sound of the running shower water disappears; I'm sure Anson must be done showering. Tired of waiting for his return, I turn off the light and start resting. In a moment, he's back.

    He slips into his pajamas and joins me beneath the covers. I nestle into his arms, clutching his warm, hard body to mine. His lips travel down my neck. I close my eyes, trying to enjoy his presence with no distractions.

     To my dismay, we're interrupted by his phone vibrating on the nightstand.

    "Sorry." His voice is husky.

    He annoyedly turns his ringer off. "It's Bryce." He explains. " It can wait."

      I pull his head back down to taste my skin. He dips down to where my neck meets my collarbone. My fingers slip through his hair and I let him kiss me until he falls asleep.

*****

Heat emanates from Anson's body. His long arms wrap around my frame, and he sleepily presses against me. Half of his face is covered by his white pillow. I blink sleep from my eyes and observe his peaceful features.

His lashes flutter and he slowly wakes. A smile stretches across his face.

    "Good morning." I whisper.

    "How long were you staring at me?" He chuckles.

    "All night long." I say sarcastically.

    "I don't blame you." He smirks and I roll my eyes and look away. The sound of his morning alarm suddenly reverberates through the room.

"Don't look away now! Don't you want to keep staring?" He says over the sound of his alarm. He presses his fingers to my chin and turns my head to face him.

     He hovers above my lips before giving in to me. A soothing peace comes over us both, for a moment I can ignore the loud beeping of his alarm clock.

I nudge him away gently. "Turn off that alarm."

"Buzzkill." He teases and sits up quickly. I notice his golden hair is wild from sleep. He reaches over to his nightstand and slams his hand down on the button that turns off the alarm. I shake my head in amusement.

    "Hit it any harder and I'll be alarmed." I joke.

    "Indie, some things just don't qualify as good humor." His voice is deep. His hands move across the nightstand to his phone, silenced the night before. He yawns and turns it on. "Wow," His voice is surprised. "My phone was blowing up last night."

     He scrolls through his phone. Uninterested, I focus down to my lap and fidget with the covers.

     "Did you buy these sheets from Target?" I think outloud. Anson stirs, but doesn't respond.

After a second, I notice he has grown fixated on his phone. I look at him curiously and notice a confused expression on his face.

   "Why did your phone get blown up last night?" I scoot over to him, resting my head against his shoulder and trying to read.

  He moves, and I frown. I begin to doubt that it's something good. "Bryce?" I recall, "Did he leave something?"

Anson only looks at me. His brows narrow and his mouth moves slowly. "Something like that." He says before pressing the phone to his ear and going to stand in front of his bedroom window. He absently pops his back and stretches before answering.