22 : Sunday

Step Twenty Two: Be careful not to bombard him with notifications and attention by sending multiple text messages in a row or liking more than 2 posts at a time. When responding to texts, send 1-2 messages as your response and then wait for him to answer! If you're speaking in person, try to keep a balanced conversation. That means listening, yes, but you also need to have some input!!

For the first Sunday in my life, waking up in the morning is a darned jolly thing.

I'm next to Jason. I'm in Jason's bed. I'm hugging his side; he has an arm around my shoulder.

Wait.

I check to make sure my pants are still on, because, if they aren't, I'm going to scream.

They're on. Thank goodness. So Jason and I didn't... yeah. I sigh with relief, actually forgetting to say it out loud. My heartbeat quickens as Jason pulls me closer, mumbling something.

"What?" I ask, just like every idiot in every sappy romance movie ever. It takes me a moment to realize that Jason is asleep; he can't hear me. I want to smack my forehead for multiple reasons all at once.

Trying not to jostle around too much, I lean over, searching for my phone on the nightstand. It's not there. My pockets? Not there. I briefly wonder how we ended up back here as some of last evening's events come back to me. I remember everything up until the moment I started drinking.

Still nestled into Jason's warm embrace, I smile with content. I wouldn't mind spending my entire Sunday with him. Or my entire life. I'm not very picky; beggars can't be choosers.

Something vibrates against my foot. Carefully, I maneuver it up to my hand using some strange techniques I picked up while dancing, and, lo and behold, it's my phone. I have a text from Blake. Technically three texts, but I round down.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Blake

bro

u and Jason just...

disappeared??

Felix

we're at home don't worry

tell Amanda thank you from us

and that we'll talk more later

Blake

k

have fun ;)

at " h o m e "

Felix

shhh

u and Russell better be careful

Blake

that's so random

and also uncalled for

i hate you

Felix

oxoxo

ilyt 😘

~~~~~~~~~

Okay, so that's taken care of. I honestly hope we said a proper good-bye when we left last night, but I can't remember anything. Worth it, though. Getting drunk was fun, even though I'm not legal here or in Australia.

I need to... um... excrete. This presents a problem, because I don't want to get out of the bed. I wouldn't know how to without waking Jason up.

Giving it a go anyway, I awkwardly turn in place, shifting so that my legs hang over the edge while my torso doesn't move. Grunting with slight effort, I detach myself from Jason and roll out of the bed in one move. I should be a stunt-double at this rate, to be honest. I think my moves are epic.

Not epic enough, though.

Jason's arms clutch at nothing, and I regret not putting a pillow in my place. As I stand up, his eyes open. They would seem dull to anyone else, but, to me, they hold the universe. He gives a small, confused smile at me, and it becomes painfully obvious that he has no idea why I was in his bed, either.

"Morning, Jason," I greet, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

He sits up, raking a hand through his perfect hair in a feeble attempt to pat it back down. "Morning," he croaks out. He presses his free hand against the side of his head, squeezing his eyes back shut. "My head really hurts."

Mine does, too, but not as much as his seems to. "I'll get you some water. Wait just a second; maybe lie back down."

"Okay," Jason obliges, grateful. It's the least I can do. I return a few minutes later with a painkiller and some water, although I took a slight break in the bathroom.

Jason is asleep again. I nearly coo out loud. "Jason... wake up. You can't go back to sleep now." I gently nudge at his shoulder, giggling when he groggily opens his eyes again.

"Dang it." Jason hinges at the waist, forcing himself to sit up. He takes the medicine from me and swallows everything when I turn away to provide him with a little privacy. "Thank you, Felix."

I look back at him, sitting crisscross on the bed. We face each other, and I hope he remembers more than I do about our night. It'd be a shame if neither of us remembered the events, but, even if he does remember, I won't pressure him to tell me. Especially if it would embarrass him. Or me. Oh, no.

"Pancakes?" I offer, breaking the easy silence. Jason is the first to stand, nodding at my brilliant idea.

"Let's go. First, though... maybe put a different shirt on. Or shower."

I glance down at myself, noticing the tan stains on Amanda's clothes. I must have spilled something on them last night. When I come to that realization, the stench registers in my brain. Suddenly, I'm aware of how much I reek of sweat, alcohol, and stupidity. Not that stupidity has a smell, but it hangs around me like an aura.

Jason, on the other hand, is fresh as ever. Of course he is. He's Jason Crowe. Nothing about him isn't fresh.

He waves me in the direction of the door, as if to force me to take a shower in the communal bathroom, saying that he'll get started on breakfast. I get there and immediately turn the water on. It heats up quickly, the glass fogging up as I...

...finish showering. Wow, that was fast, haha. No need for details. I get out of the small, glass chamber and wrap a towel around my lower half, then I walk back into Jason's room. Usually, that wouldn't be a problem—on a guys-only floor, it's not uncommon to run into some half-dressed boys. But I'm new here, so the tenants of this specific area haven't had the chance to see me in all my glory (not). With that in mind, I sprint the last bit of distance to Jason's room.

I don't think I've ever witnessed two people blush as much as Jason and I do when I walk back into the room.

"Um. Breakfast almost done. Clothes in the closet," Jason chokes out before turning and slamming the door behind him. I hear him slump against the wall, both of us catching our breaths.

Um indeed, I mentally agree.

"—has abs," I hear Jason mutter to himself. "Get a grip, Crowe. You saw them already, when you changed his clothes after he was knocked out."

I hear him stand up and stub his toe.

Ouch, Jason.

"Crowe! Man up! You have sexy biceps. Abs have nothing on you. And really, telling him where the clothes obviously are? Get a grip."

The sound of palm against forehead follows those words, causing me to blush even harder.

Ouch, Jason... again.

I think there's a possibility of a chance existing in which, hypothetically, perhaps Jason might be catching feelings for me, but I don't want to be too hopeful. If this book works, though... there's no telling how shocked Blake and I will be.

And it truly is a win-win situation, I realize, recalling Blake's words, the ones that I doubted. I either get the boyfriend or win the lawsuit. Ha. Ha. Ha. My brain procures a strange laughing sound, short and choppy. The laughing, not my brain. What? Oh, forget it. Human is a difficult language to speak.

I go to the kitchenette and eye the fluffy, golden-brown pancakes sitting on a plate near the stove, where Jason is finishing the batch of batter. He's fast, wow.

"Are you a pancake god?" is the first thing my mouth says. "These smell heavenly."

Jason wipes his hands on a towel, offering me a small, bashful smile. "My breakfasts tend to either be pancakes or cereal, but I don't usually keep cereal in the room. Only when I remember. So..." he trails off, checking to see if he can flip the pancakes yet. He can.

Five minutes later, we sit down together on the familiar couch. "Mmgh," I grunt with content. "These are delicious."

Jason beams and digs in, too. Trying to gauge how much I can flirt, I spear a piece of pancake with my fork. I lift it up to Jason's mouth, smiling.

"It's more fun to eat something you made when you aren't the one holding the fork," I inform him. I know from experience with Blake and the Turner family. Whenever I would try baking something at his house as a kid, Mrs. Turner would feed me my creation. Somehow, it would taste infinitely better. "Open."

Jason obliges, to my surprise. I giggle slightly as maple syrup smears across his upper lip, but the sound dies in my throat when he licks it off. His plump lip is the only thing I can focus on for a moment, and I'm reminded of how much I want to kiss Jason.

"Your turn," Jason says, breaking through my short daydream. "Open your mouth."

If I thought the pancakes were delicious when I was feeding myself, then there is no word to describe how they taste when I, lazily, am being fed by my love. Jason lets a small smile grace his features at my random, happy noises of approval. His cheeks dimple, and I nearly faint.

The plate of pancakes disappears quickly; that's how perfectly yummy they are.

"Can we just laze around?" I ask, yawning and stretching. "Watch a movie or something? Not exert any energy?"

"Sounds like a plan. You wanna pick something out while I go wash the dishes?" I'm offended by the offer. He isn't my servant; if anything, I should be the one cleaning.

I motion over at his computer. "You pick it out. Since you made breakfast, I'll clean up after it. It's only fair."

Jason nearly cups my face in his hand before realizing he shouldn't do that. He awkwardly pats my shoulder instead, blushing as he does so. My face heats up. "Okay, thank you."

"Of course." I bring the plates, cups, and utensils to the kitchenette, then put them in the sink. Describing how I wash the dishes would almost be more boring than the task itself. I put soap on them...

...and wipe my hands, done with the chore. Not exactly a chore, though, since it helps Jason.

When I return to the room I was previously in, Jason is looking through a few streaming channels on his computer for something to watch. Something catches his eye.

"How do murder mysteries sound?" he asks. Just the idea makes a shiver race up and down my spine, chilling my bones.

I curl up on the opposite end of the bed, grabbing a pillow for emotional support. "Sure! Totally fine. Uh-huh. Just press play already."

The A.B.C. Murders by Agatha Christie, who practically invented the Mystery genre, consists of three one-hour-long episodes. They aren't that hard to watch, which surprises me. The deaths aren't shown, only the aftermath.

There are some grotesque things, though. When a girl digs her high heels into a man's open back wounds, I shut my eyes. When I open them once more, Jason is a bit closer. I shut them again when the screen shows a flashback of a horrifying fire overtaking a church. I'd rather watch Coco again.

Opening my eyes, I'm surprised to find Jason sitting right next to me, leaning into my side. I don't register the feeling until a few more seconds pass; his clinginess warms my heart.

"We can stop watching if you want," I whisper to Jason.

He shakes his head, brave, cute, and stubborn. "We wait. I want to know who the murderer is."

I think I've already figured it out, but I continue for his sake. Jason refuses to believe that the easy answer is the right one, and he continuously presses himself closer to me.

Knowing that the strange position must hurt his back, I reorient us. Now, Jason is resting against the left side of the bed, while I have an arm around him. He feels small within my embrace, even though he probably has a more impressive bust than I do. One-eighth of an inch, after all—

"Told you so," Jason says when we finish the third and final part of The A.B.C. Murders. He stands up and stretches, all the clinginess gone. I sort of miss it. Maybe. Just a little. "Mm, I'm tired."

I laugh. "We haven't done anything today, yet I completely agree."

"Wanna just watch cartoons for a while? I want to rid my mind of those murders," Jason offers. I nod. Cartoons are amazing; who wouldn't want to watch them?

An hour and a half into the random mess of squealing, animated animals, my eyelids begin to droop. My head stopped hurting hours ago, and I can only assume that Jason's did, too.

Jason's fingers ghost over my sides, pulling me into his broad chest. I hum with content, cuddling into him. He brushes aside a lock of hair that was covering my eyes.

"Don't sleep, Lixie. It's not even six yet."

I smile lazily at the nickname, ignoring the rest of his statement. "M'tired."

Jason chuckles and grips my waist a little tighter, a comforting feeling. I feel secure, safe. "If you insist, then sleep," he whispers.

The cartoons continue, in the background. My mind slows as sleep overtakes me, snuggled into Jason. I fall asleep with a small, content smile on my face.

Today is the best day I've had in a while, and I don't even need to use the step. Being with Jason comes to me more easily than being with anyone else.