Ashley Smith

“I turn over prop my head in my hand and watch Tristan sleep. His bar back is uncovered with the sheets raped around his waist. He is clearly a blanket stealer; his sand-colored hair is a wild mess. I like it that way.
“what are you doing” I can barely understand him with his face barred in the pillow
“oh, nothing I have decided to become your creepy stocker, that’s all. I barred your old one out back, hope you don’t mind” I say deadpan.
Tristan grumbles something and turns his head towards me “someone woke up in a weirdo mood” he says.
I widen my eyes and give him the creepiest smile I can manage without a mirror. “you have a squishy face and I shall call you squishy face and you shall be mine.” Tristan bursts out laughing before he smacks me with a pillow right in my face.”
― Lane Whitt, Finding My Pack