Slowly, I move onto my back, his grumbles of protest sending shivers through me, but then I see him, still sleeping, his arm draped over me. Each time I move, he tightens his hold, keeping me pinned to him.
“Noah,” I whisper.
“Mm,” he mumbles sleepily, dragging me impossibly closer to him so he can bury his face into the side of my neck. I think I stop breathing while my heart kicks up in speed.
We slept in the same bed.Together.
A squeak leaves me as he tightens his arm and he runs his nose down the column of my throat.
“Fuck,” he rasps, voiced edged in grit, “best way to wake up.”
So my brain doesn’t short-circuit finally kissing my best friend. It manages to get through the best sex of my life with my best friend and all that comes with that, but what it can’t get over is literally sleeping with the man. Make it make sense.
I don’t know what to do with my arms. Or my legs. I’m sort of just led here like a log, staring up at a sun-drenched ceiling while he nuzzles into me.
He runs his nose back up my neck, to my jawline, but then he stops and for a minute, neither of us even breathes. I listen to the clock tick for four seconds before he finally releases me and pushes up to rest on his elbow. The warmth of his chest presses into the side of me and I flick my eyes to his face, tracing his features as they are kissed by the morning light. The muscles of his body are highlighted in a halo of gold, his hair adorably mused with one half sticking up a little as if he hasn’t moved an inch all night.
“We’re in the same bed,” I whisper. I remember passing out watching the movie with Noah on the couch and vaguely recall being moved from there and into a bed. It just hadn’t occurred to mewhosebed it was.
“Is that a problem?” He presses his tongue to his canine as he grins boyishly.
Is it a problem? Wasn’t I complaining about this only a few days ago?
“Well, I don’t know,” I swallow.
“Don’t overthink, cricket,” he whispers his fingers down the side of my face. “But I’m not going to deny how fucking good it feels or how well I slept.”
“I slept good too,” I admit.
I always sleep the best when I’m near him, even if it’s just in the same apartment.
His eyes bounce between mine as he slips his fingers into my hair, his fingers twitching against my scalp. He leans in a little closer, and I turn into his orbit, parting my lips in preparation, but right before his mouth touches mine, a cramp twists in my lower abdomen. It immediately has me curling up, pushing Noah away.
Fuck.
Happens every month, catches me off guard every time.
“Sid?” I push out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, feeling that dreaded gush the moment I am stood upright.
I literally wrote a schedule; it was right there in red pen that Mother Nature was coming to visit my uterus this week, and here I am, wholly unprepared and cramping like a bitch.
“Are you okay?” I hear Noah yell as the door slams in his face.
The first day of my period is always the worst: the cramps, the blood, it’s a mass exodus during those first twenty-four hours and the worst time of my life. I swear I’ll never get used to it despite having periods for over half of my life now.
Fucking bullshit if you ask me. What the fuck do you mean I have to deal with periodsanddo all the heavy lifting that comes with reproduction?
“Sidney?” Noah calls through the door.
“I’m fine,” I huff loud enough for him to hear. I’m not fine. I want my hot water bottle, but first, tampons. “I need you to go get my purse for me.”
“Your purse?”
“Noah, please. Can you just grab it for me and bring it here?”
I listen to his steps move away from the door, fidgeting with my thumbs as I wait for him to return. He knocks once and then turns the handle on the door before he places my purse inside, promptly shutting the door behind him.
Using my toe, I hook the strap and drag it closer, pulling it onto my lap so I can rummage through to find what I need.
