I hate waking up. It’s a chore, getting myself up. Stumbling to make coffee, force feeding myself breakfast, and worst of all - getting in my car and driving. Whoever invented the morning commute is laughing at me everyday from their cushy spot in hell. Anyways, I say all of this to say that I had no issue waking up this morning. 

I was laying on the living room floor of Guinevere’s house with Guinevere cuddled up next to me, her head resting on my shoulder and her body wrapped around me. I was happy to wake up this morning. The air was a good temperature in the house, her warm body was breathing against mine, and the knowledge that I was the luckiest woman in the world stuck with me.

Looking around me, I studied the layout of Guinevere’s space as I played with her hair. The walls were a mess of posters, bits of merchandise from popular media to niche shows, and items that were genuinely confusing. Like the porcelain ducks with fedoras that flocked around the tv. Guinevere, I have many questions for you when you wake up.

Tapestries covered the ceiling, making you feel like you were surrounded in a cush ball of fabric. The couch behind us was torn and sunken and could barely be called a couch, yet it had character. Guinevere’s world was purely her own. I felt her move closer into my side and stiffened up, making her rustle and open her eyes. 

“Darling? I fell asleep hard.” 

“You really did.”

“I remember talking about… actually I don’t remember what I was talking about. Was it cool?”

“Legendary.”

“Nice.” 

She sat up and looked down at me on the floor.

“How in hell does your hair manage to stay so straight in your sleep?” She asked and I laughed. 

“I don’t know, it’s naturally straight.”

“I’ll never understand. Look at this rats nest! A hive.” She said pointing to her own head of hair.

It looked just fine. She was exaggerating.

“So when we doing this writing binge?” She asked and I sat up. 

“Now. Let’s jam.”

And so we got to work. I ordered breakfast and we started planning stories together. Guinevere was razor focused on our topics and by the middle of our binge, she had written pages upon pages of content. Stories ranging everywhere from ninjas in medieval England to sappy love stories to murder mysteries. We were going through every genre, searching for one that she could truly shine through. 

We settled upon the ninjas in England and a prose she had written regarding a family drama as the two most promising.

“Fundamentals. The best stories have a lamp pole scene.” Guinevere remarked while writing a new prose. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, shit gets done at lamp poles. People die, get married, kiss, fight, get kidnapped. Everything happens there. It’s the ambiance of the lighting.”

“I think car scenes are more prolific. Everything you mentioned can happen there too.”

“They’re awkward.”

She paused to look up at me. 

“You’re really pretty Marcus.” She said and bit down softly on her bottom lip. That one no toon driving me insane, I internally shifted. 

I’m in danger. My face were pure red.

“Thank you. I t-try my best.” I stuttered out. 

“Honestly, why are you not in a relationship?”

“I never really thought about it.”

This was of course, a lie.

“You should. I think love is a beautiful thing and should be shared between beautiful people like you.”

At this point, I was practically hiding myself behind my notes I was scouring through. 

“Marcus. Are you blushing?” She inquired.

Does she realize she’s teasing me? She’s got to know, right? She must know. 

I turned away.

“I am simply turning red due to the compliments given affecting my circulation.”

“If you weren’t such a prude, I would think you’ve fallen for me Marcus.” She joked and I laughed with her. 

“Ha, yeah. That’d be pretty funny.” I said.

She stared into my eyes like she was deciphering code. 

“It’s getting late Marcus, let me go get a blanket. It’ll be getting cool soon.”

“Yeah. Blanket.” I mumbled. 

As she got up and walked away, I released a breath I had been holding. 

If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect she knows about my crush on her.