Life in Color ✔️

30~ I'm Sorry

Something tickles my face, waking me up from my first decent night of sleep in weeks.

I look back and freeze. Ashton is asleep. In my bed. With his arm thrown over my waist.

What the hell happened last night?

Everything comes flooding back to memory. Four drunken teenagers on New Years Eve. Ashton and I sorta making up not that he will remember anything in his state.

I try to slip from my bed but it's useless, I'm stuck under his arm. I reach for my phone as Ashton shifts in his sleep, pulling me backwards. You've got to be kidding me. I need to put pants on, like, now.

Maybe I can wiggle my way out.

I try to subtly move out from his arm but he shifts again, moving me underneath him. There's no escaping this. Maybe I should wake him up and he can deal with his hangover as punishment.

I poke his face softly to see how he'll react. He doesn't budge.

Honestly, now that I'm staring at him, Ashton looks really cute when he's sleeping. He's not talking. However, I'm not sure how I feel about the facial hair.

I stop admiring him and poke harder. Nothing.

"Ashton." Poke. "Wake." Poke. "Up." Poke. I try to keep my voice down incase anyone's awake downstairs. I don't need anyone walking in while I'm stuck like this.

I go to poke him again but his hand stops mine. "Sweetheart, if you poke me one more time, I'm going to be very, very annoyed." He mummers gruffly.

My voice is gone, he sounds hot. I don't realize I'm gaping until he closes my mouth. "Can I help you?" He asks smugly with that stupid smirk. God, I missed that insufferable smirk.

His body's relaxed now, raising my leg, I smile, "Yes, you can get the fuck off me." And with that I kick him off of me.

However, I underestimated the strength of my left leg. Instead of landing next to me, Ashton lands on the floor with a thud.

Whoops.

He grunts in pain as he crawls back onto my bed. Returning to the position we were in literally seconds ago.

Did that fall give him brain damage?

"Ash, for real, we need to get up. I'm pretty sure Ella's thrown up three times by now and it's not gonna clean itself up."

I've seen Ella drunk numerous times since one beer can do the trick and she has the worst hangovers known to mankind. A 24 hour headache, red eyes, and vomit. Lots of vomit. The fact she's never been caught by her parents is concerning.

He just yawns and rests his head on top of mine, mindlessly playing with my hair. "That's not your problem."

I swat his hand away, slightly enjoying it and slightly annoyed. "It is when it's my house."

That seems to wake him up. I'm released from his arms and I get up, forgetting I'm not wearing pants. I can feel Ashton's eyes on me so I flip him off as I hobble into my closet. After putting on leggings, I awkwardly jump towards my crutches then to my bathroom.

"Do you need help?" He asks from the bed.

"Nope." I reply, shutting the bathroom door.

Holy shit, I'm a mess. My mind is buzzing a million miles an hour, so much physical touch.

I splash cold water on my face before washing it. I scrub my teeth and attempt to fix my hair to no success. The electrical socket look is cute, right? With one last affirmative glance in the mirror I enter my room again. Ashton's by my wall, holding a picture of my parents.