Page 30 of Storm in a Teacup
Once I manage that, I turn in the bed, careful to keep Linny’s arm around me.
I brush the hair out of her face gently, and she blinks awake,taking a moment to focus on me. I fully intend to tease her about spooning me in the night, but what comes out of my mouth instead is, “You’re beautiful in the morning.”
Because, goddamn, she is. The light that woke me is making her hair glimmer and burn. Those eyes are soft and sleepy and pure magic.
I expect her to remove her arm from me, or comment about how we are sharing a pillow and are chest to chest, but she mumbles, “You’re a bit blurry in the morning.”
“You’re a liar,” I say quietly.
She blinks, confused and not fully awake. “What?”
“You said you’re not a cuddler, but I woke up to you cuddling the bloody hell out of me.”
Her eyes widen, and I think she’s finally awake. “Shit.”
She rockets away, making me cackle.
“Don’t be a dick,” she scolds, throwing a pillow at me.
I brush the pillow off so it falls to the ground. “I’m not. It was nice! I slept great in your arms last night,” I can’t help but taunt.
She shoves me hard, almost pushing me off the bed as I continue to snicker. She sits up, grumbling. Then she twists back, “Did you use my body wash last night?”
I roll onto my back. “Yes.”
“That explains why you smell good.”
“Well, that and my natural pheromones. They say I have better pheromones than the rest.”
“Whosays that?”
I gesture widely. “They. All of them. Every them, along with everyone in the world. I swear, go to anyone I’ve ever even brushed past and they’ll be like ‘Oh, Ben Pyeon? The guy with the best pheromones on the market?’ Try it. I dare you.”
“You are such an odd person.” She makes that sound like a compliment. She retrieves her glasses from the nightstand and sets them on her face. “So, when do you leave for the soccer thing?”
I check the time on my phone. “About an hour. Have to head to Stratford. It’s where the pitch is, I guess. When do you leave?”
“About half an hour, so I’d better start getting ready.”
She sits at the desk under a mirror, gathering a brush and hair ties with her. I watch as she splits her hair down the middle, then proceeds to plait one side, then the other. Her glasses are back off as she does this, so clearly she doesn’t need to see to form these perfect plaits, her hands and muscle memory providing enough sight.
As she touches up her hair, pulling down strands to frame her face and the like, she says, “You can head back to Edinburgh after the stag thing. You don’t have to wait around for me.”
I sit up. “That’s the second time you’ve told me to go home. Would you like me to leave? I know I’m a lot.”
She faces me, putting her glasses back on as she does so. “You’re the perfect amount. No. I just don’t want you to think you have to stay.”
“I don’t think that. I think I’m going to go play football with some lads, then I’ll wait for you here while you’re at your da’s. In the morning, we’ll take the train back to Edinburgh together. That’s my plan. I’m hoping it aligns with yours.”
Linny’s mouth twitches. “You can come to my dad’s house if you’d like, so you’re not spending the evening alone.”
“I’d love to.”
She lets that smile grow full. “Thanks for being here.”
I wave her away. “Stop thanking me. Not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, you know.”
Her eyebrows lift playfully. “You’re not, are you? Then how come?”
