It's an early Sunday morning in June. We've been out of school for a week now and I don't think I've spent more than an hour out of this bed. I guess you forgot to shut the shades all the way last night, because I've woken up to this blinding sliver of sunlight in my eyes. It can't be later than 9 or 10, so I mean, why get up? Plus, your head is on my chest and my left arm is pinned beneath your right shoulder, so it might be a little hard if I tried.
Your little snores are maybe the cutest things I've ever heard. I wish you'd own up to the fact that you snore. It's not a bad thing. Almost everyone does it. But, hey, who am I to rain on your parade?
When you sleep Santana, you get to escape the world you fear. When you sleep, your entire face relaxes all the way from the tip of your chin, to the tiny baby hairs that cover the top of your forehead. So, I let my little brave girl snore.
I lift my unpinned arm up to comb my fingers through your hair. It's so soft and untamed in the morning. Plus, I kinda want you to wake up. It's lonely in bed not being able to talk to you. It's already hard enough trying to remember my dream from last night. You know, it takes skill to actively remember a dream. I usually have my little notepad on the side of my bed to quickly write down what I remember but I don't keep one at your house.
Oops. I think I woke you up. I can't remember the last snore. Oh yeah, definitely woke you up. Sorry not sorry.
"Mmmm, Britt?"
You're so cute and disoriented when you wake up. At least this time you didn't smack me and tell me to sew the flag onto the jacket instead of the shorts. Whatever that meant.
"Morning, sleepy."
You slowly turn your head and look at me with your bangs askew and drool dried up on the corner of your wide-open mouth.
"What time is it?"
"About 9:30", I answer. Even though I'm not actually sure how early it is. That's just between the two times I guesstimated.
"Wow. Earliest I've woken up since school ended", you reply as you wipe the drool from your mouth and scoot up right in front of my face so I can feel your breath on my lips.
"This should be illegal", you whisper with a sly smirk.
"What should be illegal?"
"Waking up to Brittany S. Pierce. It's just not fair. How can I expect to have anything better happen to me for the rest of the day? It's just setting me up for disappointment."
When you say things like this? That's what should be illegal. When you say tender and sweet things like this to me, I literally feel my heart melting. You melt my heart, Santana. Who else can say that?
I have no choice but to close the distance between us and capture your lips with mine. I feel you hum as we meet and a smile slowly creeps across my mouth. You deepen the kiss and gently envelope my bottom lip with both of yours.
Morning kisses are awesome. They're slow and sticky and soft. I was gonna say they're my favorite but I don't think I could pick a favorite kiss of ours.
You pull away slowly and there's a light smacking sound from where we separated. "Now that's how you say good morning", you say with a little giggle. Why is your giggle the most amazing sound I've ever heard?
You look across my body and over to your alarm clock. Your eyes widen in shock. "Britt! It's fucking five in the morning!" Oh, no.
"Oh, no", I reply. I'm sorry, Santana. I really thought it was 9:30. "Why'd you say it was 9:30?!" you exclaim.
"I don't know. The light in my eyes made me wake up and I just figured it was around 9 or 10. You know how sometimes you can just tell from where the sunlight falls?" I question you. Nodding your head and taking a deep breath you answer me. "Baby, that's only with sundials that you use outside. But I get where you're coming from."
"Oh, okay. Now I get it."
You hum back an "mmhmm" in response.
You lay your head back on my chest and we're both silent for a good five minutes as I continue to stroke your head. I think you've fallen back asleep when you jerk your head up. "Wait. What's today's date?"
It takes me a second to think. "June 10th. Why?"
You shove yourself off of me and run out of your bedroom faster than I've ever seen you move before noon in my life. And all of a sudden, you're back and grabbing my arm before I could ask where you went. "Where are we going?" I ask instead, as I'm being dragged out of the bedroom and down the stairs. "Just trust me", you reply. Obviously, Santana. I can't even believe those words still come out of your mouth anymore.
You drag me through your house and outside to your back porch. "Wait here a second" you say as you scuttle back inside. I just sit on one of the chaise lounge chairs and wait for you. Is this the one that we 69'd on?
You barge back outside with a huge blanket in your arms. Now that I see the blanket, I realize I am a little cold. "Move back", you say as you signal for me to be the big spoon. I happily oblige.
You lie down in front of me and pull the blanket up on both of us as we face your backyard. It's been silent for two minutes now and I'm still wondering why we're cuddled on our 69 chaise lounge looking at your backyard.
"Today is the earliest sunrise of the summer", you say so casually as you read my mind.
"No way! That's so cool. How'd you find out?"
"Said it in yesterday's paper."
You read the paper. You're like my own little 75 year old retiree.
The sun's begun to rise and I find myself holding you a little tighter as it rises up into the sky. Maybe it's because it looks so pretty that my whole body just tenses up in excitement. I don't know. All I know is that you're turning around in my arms and I'm looking down at you and sinking into those mesmerizing orbs of chocolate you call eyes, and I can't look away.
"I love you" I feel compelled to say. Like, I have no choice. I couldn't have stopped that phrase from coming out even if my mouth was duct taped shut.
You reach up and cup my cheek in your hand, slowly dragging your thumb across my cheekbone. "I love you, too." Wow. That never gets old.
"Thank you for sharing this with me." I say. I mean, who else's girlfriend reads the paper?
"I'll share everything with you, Britt. Everything."