Rushing down the stairs, too happy to focus, I searched the room for the rest of my family, who were nowhere to be found. Ah, they must all be hungover, I know Blake got mad when I tried waking up- jet-leg sucks. The tree was still dazzling with its ornaments and silver lights. The angel so beautiful, I'm surprised it wasn't singing.
Outside the snow had gained another layer, bringing the Christmas spirit really to life. What's Christmas, without a blanket of fluffy, frozen water? I decided I would cook breakfast for everyone, as my version of a Christmas present, because guess who was broke.
After an hour or two of scrambling eggs, baking muffins, and cutting up fruit, the delicious master piece came to life. That's when the crowd came down,- I personally think it was the smell.
"What're ya makin'?" Grandmum was up first, a surprise. Usually she sleeps in, because she drank the most.
"Breakfast, Granmum." I said, licking yogurt off of my thumb.
"Smells like yer makin' heav'n on earth!" Her accent really rang through.
"Thank you!" I pushed her hand away, as she tried grabbing a muffin. I shock my finger mockingly, and she pretended to pout. I laughed, and she chorused in laughter alongside my own.
Out of nowhere, arms-warm ones, wrapped around my waist from behind, making me smile to myself. Blake. Ugh, honestly, this love was worth all of the crying, and it might make me sound weak, or whatever, but he means the world. All he wanted to do was protect what we had, he was loyal. He was only doing what was best, and the only person I have a right to be mad at is myself (and Margot). I didn't have full faith in him, when I really should've, and he stuck with me, so I should be grateful.
Besides I could really get used to these bear hugs.
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Breakfast was lovely, with laughter all around. My family was finally together, was finally happy, and I guess that's all that mattered. I had Blake, I had happiness, I had my brother, my life was shaping up. I guess life can't be perfect, but it can be your version of perfect, perfectly imperfect. In all honesty, you can't expect everything to work out the way you want it to, because that's not what you need. Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes the reason doesn't make sense now, but it will, give it time.
Blake kissed my cheek, and I smiled into it. He must of noticed my overly-focused look, where my eyebrows are knitted, and I'm usually chewing on my lip. Oddly, I'm often caught looking outside, especially when I think about things.
"You're beautiful, you know?" He smiled.
"I'm not." I said, smiling back.
"You are, in every way. I don't mean looks, I would never be so shallow, you know you have a beautiful mind, soul, heart and everything in between. I would never be so pretentious." He said, trying to jokingly impress me. I chuckled, at not only him, but his use of 'pretentious.'
"I would rather be called lovely, than beautiful." I pushed him, laughing at this whole situation.
"You're lovely." He studied my reaction.
"No, I'm sorry."
"For what?" He looked shocked, in the cutest way.
"Everything. Giving up on you, when I know I had no right to, but, we're stronger, and I'm so happy you're here. You make everything lovely, I hope you know that."
YOU ARE READING
The Girl Who Wore Her Heart on her Sleeve.
Teen Fiction"I felt like I lost you the day I left." "You never did, I will forever and always be yours." He looked at me with dead seriousness, studying my reaction. "I was always yours, even when I was losing not just you, but myself too." ...
