Page 147 of The Breaking Pointe
COLTON
When I was a child, I would wake up bright and early on Christmas Day, before either of my parents. I could hardly sleep the night before, and I would be so excited that I would wait until the exact moment that I could see the sun rising through my bedroom window.As soon as I did, my body would shoot from the bed and right into my parents’ room, alerting them that it was time for presents.
OutofthemanythingsthatIdeemhorribleinthislife of mine—the holidays will never fall under that category when it comes to my family. Neither of my parents allowed their turmoil to ruin that for me. They made them some of the best memories that I could have to look back on, and worked their damn hardest to give me what I considered to be amazing presents as a young boy.
As I reflect on it, it makes it all the more harder to wake up without feeling slightly emotional that I’m spending my
first time without either of them in my life anymore. It’s a new beginning, that isn’t as refreshing as most beginnings, and is much harder to adjust to. The only thing that makes beginning again easier, is doing it with a clearer mind. Each day, things look more clear to me than ever before. The path I’m taking doesn’t confuse me as much as it once did, and I’m not afraid to hit a few more bumps in the road. I don’t know if it’s my relationship with Noelle, or the uplifting of the heavy weighted blanket holding me down from getting better, but I know that questioning it doesn’t give me an answer.It keeps me stagnant, and I need better, which means that I can’t block myself from the potential good that’s coming my way. I should be embracing it, and using any tests I receive to make myself greater.
Noelle’s bare frame shifts against mine, her breasts press- ing into my side as her body shivers and takes my attention from the sunlight shining through the blinds. Grabbing the comforter, I cover her body more, shielding her from the chill as I kiss her shoulder, thinking back to her entrance in the middle of the night.I kept my word about sleeping in the guest room.She couldn’t bear sleeping one night without me.Those were her words, not mine, right before she fell asleep in my arms. Magically, she stayed put, until this very second,tuckedinmyembrace.Iwishwedidn’thaveto move. I wish that we were allowed to lie here for as long as we please.
I’mbecominghopelesslyromantic,underherspell.
Her head rests on the same pillow as mine, as she’s created no space between our bodies. Her sleeping face sits content before my gaze.I love when she’s at her barest form.No makeup,curlsineverydirection,andeveryfreckleisableto
be counted to keep me busy.I often wonder if she knows that she’s God’s gift to me. In our quiet time spent together this way, I think of it even more.I take a thumb to her lips, tracing it gently along them as she breathes in and out calmly.
“Stop staring at me…” she whispers in her morning voice. I blink slowly, smiling as she senses me. “No,” I rasp, my throatfeelingscratchierthanusual,peckingherlipssoftly.
Her eyes flutter open, looking at my lips as soon as they do, then my eyes.
“Is your voice gone?” she asks, brushing her hands along my chest, keeping them stuffed between our bodies.
“I must’ve strained it last night,” I suggest, my hand falling down to her neck as I trace her freckled skin.
“I didn’t make you moan that much, did I?” She looks at my lips again, her fingers tracing my face and beard.
“You underestimate hand jobs, clearly.” I chuckle, sound- ing more gravelly than usual.
“It’s kind of sexy.I need to make this happen more often.” She pokes fun at me, letting laughter slip from her lips.
“Yeah, in a place where I don’t have to keep myself quiet,” I grunt, rolling onto my back and bringing her body with me so we stay close.
“I told you it isn’t easy,” she states, sitting up.Her hair falls down her shoulders and back as she looks down at me. “You didn’t believe me,” she says proudly.
“You proved your point, missy,” I say, bringing my bottom lip between my teeth as my eyes fall down her naked body.
She pushes a hand through her hair. “I should get dressed and go see if my parents are awake.”
I nod.“Go,” I calmly say.
Shecrawlsoverme,steppingontothefloortopickup
her pajama shorts and shirt, putting them onto swiftly before taking another glance at me.“Merry Christmas, Mr. Kennedy,” she swoons before exiting the room.
Laying there, I stare at the almost closed door for a moment after she leaves. Sitting up, I throw the covers off of me and reach for my boxers and sweatpants, rubbing my eyes as I do. My few seconds of silence is then berated with the door swinging open, but this time, it’s Steven.
“Hey—woah.” He stumbles back, covering his eyes from the view of me hunched over in my boxers, attempting to put my pants on.
“That’s why there’s a thing called knocking.” I chuckle. “Ithoughtyou’dstillbeasleep,”hesays,stillholdinga
hand over his eyes.
I pull my pants up all the way and walk over to him, moving his hands. “It’s Christmas morning. Why would I sleep in and miss all the fun?” I ask, roughing up his hair.
Hesmacksmybarechest.“Hey,whatthehell!”
I lean down, reaching for my sweatshirt and lift my arms to slip it on, then look at him again. “Now. What’s up, little brother?”
