The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

chapter eleven

The next morning, I woke up to a blinding sunlight, and I rolled over and snuggled deeper into the comforters, allowing the warm smell of fabric softener to invade my nostrils. A cocoon of warmth and comfort settled over me like a warm halo, and I smiled to myself.

            Slowly, I peeled open my eyes, and met Chance’s. I let out a squeak of surprise and almost fell out of the bed, but managed to grab onto the sheets and hold on just in time to avoid embarrassment.

            Chance chuckled, his eyebrows raised. “Hi, there.”

            “Were you watching me sleep?” I muttered, suddenly self-conscious. Ever since I’d started sleeping in the same room as Chance, I’d taken to wearing a bra to bed—which was just as uncomfortable as it sounded—but I suddenly felt exposed. What if I’d snored in my sleep?

            He grinned. “No, of course not,” he replied quickly, shaking his head adamantly. “You just… said my name in your sleep,” he admitted finally. “And then you woke up.”

            “Oh,” I whispered, as the memories of last night flooded back to me. Talking about my parents and Zoëy on the dock, and then giving up my first kiss to Chance.

            After we’d said merry Christmas to each other, Chance had kissed me again, and that had continued well past midnight. I hadn’t told Chance that I loved him back—mostly because I wasn’t entirely sure that I did yet—and Chance hadn’t asked me to. He’d been happy to let it go, respecting the fact that just because we’d shared that moment last night, didn’t mean everything had changed. I was still the same girl.

            But it seemed I was powerless to his kisses.

            It was then I suddenly realized what he was wearing. He wore a pair of plaid pajama pants, and… well, nothing else.

            His handsome torso was left bare, and let me tell you, that was a sight to see. I’d seen him shirtless before—whenever we’d gone swimming in the lake he’d gone topless—but in the light of morning it was… well, perfect, honestly.

            He had washboard abs, a muscular chest and broad shoulders, and those V lines girls seemed to obsess over so much. Not to mention how naturally tanned he was. It was as if he had been roasted on God’s very own heavenly rotisserie.

            And I was not complaining.

            Finally, I cleared my throat and turned away, lying back down slowly. “What time is it?”

            “Just after eight,” Chance replied, tugging a white shirt on. I had half a mind to tell him to leave the shirt off, but decided against it. If he did, I wasn’t to be held accountable for my actions.

            Chance walked over and sat on the edge of my bed, grabbing my hand and interlocking our fingers. “About last night…” he began. His lashes were so long that they brushed his cheekbones when he blinked, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously as he swallowed. “…I meant what I said. And I still mean it now.”