You Are the Shell to My Tortoise | ✓

32

"...up. Hey."

My ears dimly registered Nolan's voice as I felt my arm being nudged.

I was resting my head on something that smelled really good, and a little soft. It was so comfortable that I didn't want to get up. Turning my face towards it, I nuzzled the soft material, inhaling deeply. It smelled like a mix of various soapy fragrances, sweet but not too cloying at the same time. I couldn't get enough of it.

Why did I feel like I'd come across this scent before?

I took a few more contented sniffs, smiling to myself at how pleasant it was.

"Uh ... what are you doing?"

I froze as my brain processed the question.

As my mind cleared up, I forced myself to open my eyes and sit up, instead of leaning against this cozy warmth pressed against my arm.

Nolan's half-lidded green eyes met mine.

I took in the sight of his slightly furrowed eyebrows. Despite looking like he was on the brink of falling asleep himself, the confusion on his face was evident.

Was my head really just on his shoulder a second ago? No, scratch that. Was I really just shamelessly—although semi-unconsciously—sniffing at his hoodie?!

No wonder I thought it seemed familiar. I'd been addicted to this very same scent that emanated from Nolan's comforter when he lent it to me a month ago. The memory of me lying in bed clutching onto his comforter swam into my mind, and I swiftly waved it away.

"I'm so sorry!" I blurted out, covering my mouth. "I didn't know I was resting on your shoulder!"

Shaking his head, he gave me a half-smile. "Nah, it's fine. It was probably more comfortable than the wall."

"You should've woken me up," I said, cringing inwardly.

"I could have," he allowed. "I didn't mind, though."

"But you asked me what I was doing," I said.

"Yeah ... because you were sniffing me," he said.

Warmth instantly surged into my cheeks. "Sorry, I was half-asleep."

"Do I smell that weird?" He looked down at the front of his hoodie.

"No!" I quickly said, before burying my face in my hands. "Please don't judge me, but whatever detergent you're using smells really, really good. I was half-asleep. I couldn't help myself."

A few seconds of silence passed between us. I braced myself for his oncoming laughter. To my surprise, it never came.

"Yeah," he said, "I like it too. My live-in nanny used to mix different fabric softeners and detergents to get this kind of fragrance. I do my own laundry for that reason."

"You had a nanny?" I asked, curious.

We had a housekeeper, but never someone who was hired specifically to take care of me or Ryan. My mom didn't like the idea of someone else spending more time with her children than she did, so she worked from home. Her job as a graphic designer allowed her that freedom.

Despite being very busy with their careers, my parents always made sure to take time out of their schedule to spend it with us. My dad flew out of state all the time for business trips, but he was always home for family holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

"She looked after me until I went into middle school," he said. "Her father got into an accident and she had to quit to take care of him."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, unsure if offering condolences was the appropriate thing to do in response. "You sound like you were really close to her."