“Shawnnnnn, I wanna do something,” you said, dragging out the last letter of your boyfriend’s name. It was a Sunday morning, and according to Shawn, Sundays were meant for staying in. Though you loved his cuddles, you decided that staying in bed was getting boring.
“We’re in each other’s presence,” he said, “I think that that’s good enough, yeah?”
You felt your face grow hot, as it always did when he would drop even the simplest compliment, though you weren’t sure that was meant to be taken as a compliment.
“I love you, but can we get up?” You turned around in your position as the little spoon to face him, studying the shadows that were projected onto his face. The sun peeking through the blinds drew light and dark stripes across his chocolate eyes, chapped strawberry lips, chiseled jaw.
“I’m lazy,” he replied. “And stop staring, weirdo.”
“You’re always lazy,” you shot back.