What happens in Vegas

30| Formalities

Chapter 30: Formalities (Bella's POV)

It was now a few days later and Noah and I were... napping. We were taking a nap together. How exciting. 

I woke up first like I usually do and faced him, staring at him like I always do. Admiring him like I always do. Falling a little more in love with him like I always do. 

"Creep-o," he mumbled, shuffling around. 

"I can't help it," I whispered, tracing his eyebrow with a feather's touch. 

"You have to be careful now," he smiled, "You're about to fall in love with me so hard," he chuckled. 

"Why would I be careful about that? Should I be? Will you break my heart, Noah Hudson?" 

He opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows rather than on his stomach like he was lying earlier. "Never, Bella Miller," he shook his head, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Never," he repeated. "You're beautiful," he whispered faintly. 

"You're beautiful too," I smiled. 

He chuckled, kissing me shortly. "There's something I want to ask you," he said, "My parents have been asking me who this wonderful..." he sighed, pulling me closer, "Gorgeous..." I grinned in response. "Stunning, magnetic, fucking beautifully breathtaking girl is that I've been seeing." He tucked my hair behind my ear again. "They really want to meet you." 

"When?" I asked. 

"Tonight," he said, drawing circles on my bare arm. 

"What time?" I questioned. 

"8 o'clock," he whispered, "You don't have to come if you don't want to." 

"Why wouldn't I want to meet them?" I asked. 

"That's fair, why wouldn't you want to meet your future in-laws?" he shrugged. 

"You're crazy," I laughed, shaking my head, "I would love to meet them," I smiled. 

"Great, I'll come get you at 7:45 then," he replied. 

"I wanna see your room," I mumbled. He raised an amused eyebrow at me, urging me to continue. "I wanna see the bed you sleep on, the clothes you wear, the desk you studied at, the books you read, the languages you know. How many do you know?" I asked. 

"English and French from high school," he shrugged. 

"You took French?" I asked, slightly surprised. He nodded in response. "I took Spanish. I actually like to think I'm fairly good at it," I shrugged. 

"Say something in Spanish," he nodded. 

"I said I like to think I'm good at it, but I'll give it a shot," I cleared my throat, "Quiero que me digas que me amas," I said. 

I want you to tell me that you love me. 

"What does that mean?" he asked with a small pout suggesting his confusion. 

"First say something in French," I retorted. 

"J'aimerais pouvoir dire que je t'aime," he said. 

"What does that mean?" I asked. 

"You first," he smirked. 

"I said, 'I want you to tell me that you love me,'" I mumbled, "You?" 

He chuckled, "I said, 'I wish I could say that I love you.'" 

"Are you serious?" He nodded while laughing. "It's a sign Noah, say it," I whined. 

"I can't, babe," he shook his head, "Just give me more time."