Ultraviolet ✔️

17.1

Chapter Seventeen

My first thought when I wake up is that I'm running late.

For some reason, my brain doesn't register that it's a Saturday, nor does it register that my alarm didn't go off because I'm not even in my own house.

When my eyes open, I'm staring up a different ceiling, sunlight streaming in from a large window off to the left instead of the right. The sheets are different. The blankets are thicker and the room is warmer.

And Joel Reed is sleeping next to me.

He's curled up on his side, facing away from me, his breathing slow and deep. His shoulders lift each time he exhales. When he's at peace like this, I don't want to disturb him.

I check the clock and notice that we've slept in. It makes sense, considering how late we were up. Admittedly, I'm a little sore, a bit nervous, and full of energy. I'm with Joel. The relief in knowing that he still wants to be with me even after everything I've told him is more than reassuring.

Suddenly, he stirs, blinking at me with eyes still half-closed from sleep. "Hey, sweetheart."

His voice is deeper than normal when he's just woken up and it's the most attractive thing I've ever heard.

"Hi," I say, nervously tugging on the hem of my shirt to keep it from riding up.

"Last night," he murmurs. "I don't know where to start."

I burrow deeper into the sheets, wondering if that's good or bad or the grey area in between.

"Hey," he whispers. "It was amazing. I wouldn't change anything about it."

He reaches out and pushes my hair behind my ear gently, his hand lingering. Comfortable, I lean into his palm, trying to memorize what his fingers brushing my cheek feels like so I never forget it.

"Is it bad that I want to stay in bed with you all afternoon?" he asks, gently pulling me closer.

I shake my head. "If I didn't have homework, I would agree."

He sighs. "Must you always have homework?"

I shrug. "Par for the course."

He kisses my shoulder, his lips warm and gentle. "Can the homework wait a few hours so I can make you breakfast?"

"I think it can."

There are dimples in his lower back. I spend several minutes staring at them as he scrambles eggs on the stove. His boxers are hanging low on his hips, and they're all he's been wearing for a solid half-hour. I haven't gotten dressed either. If I do that, I'm going to have to admit our perfect morning is over.

We talk over eggs, toast, and coffee, enjoying the moment for what it is. No one has ever made me breakfast before. Hell, no one has ever made love to me before. This whole day is full of new experiences, quickly being discovered.

"How do you feel?" he asks after he's put our plates in the sink.

"Good," I say. "Really good."

He grins. "That's what I wanna hear."

I have trouble leaving. If I could afford it, we would be back in his bed and probably wouldn't leave for the afternoon. Unfortunately, duty calls, so I settle for a kiss goodbye and go on my way.

I take the train home, my cheeks flushed from both the brisk air and the memory of Joel and I. The whole thing feels so unreal. There's hope inside me for the future, optimism in everything I do.