Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 135

I think I can safely say I've had more than enough of visits to New York for the rest of my life. The only thing worse than going through all of that was the flight back, which made me sick, and him nervous all over again.

It had been a strange weekend, difficult and insanely upsetting. But I'd never felt closer to him, things felt amazing between us, which shocked me, considering the last two times we'd been we'd left absolutely pissed.

This time, when we got home, we both just crawled into my bed and took a much-needed nap. Kent was practically an insomniac in that house; he rarely slept other than the night he used me as a throw pillow. Even then, we were up later, chatting and talking before he collapsed.

Traveling wasn't restful either, and that whole weekend had stressed the two of us out unbelievably.

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day, a stupid holiday that I'd completely forgotten about. Never celebrating it does that to you.

I'd have to go out tomorrow and figure out something to give him that he'd actually like. I don't know what on earth to buy him. His hobbies include working out and cooking low-carb high-protein meals. He's impossible to buy for; he has everything and everything he doesn't, he could easily.

I hope he's kind of forgotten about it. I don't want him to make a big deal of it. Not when my birthday's so soon too. He loves any reason to celebrate or spend money, and I need to be better at reminding him simple is great, even if it is precious.

We got back early this afternoon, and Kent has spent that whole time dozing away on my shoulder.

I woke up a while ago and grabbed a textbook off my nightstand to get a handle on my reading for the week ahead. He was cute when he slept, his mind completely at ease.

There's a knock on my door, and I put my book down. "Yeah?" I ask, trying to keep my voice down.

"Are you two decent?" I hear Mark's voice from the other side as he cracks the door open.

"Yes, what do you want?" I ask, rolling my eyes, and he opens it, poking his head inside.

His eyes fall on me first and then Kent, smirking a bit. "He's whipped as hell."

"He's being adorable; what do you want?" I ask again, marking my page. "What are you doing for your birthday?" He asks, and I snort.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "Believe it or not, it hasn't been at the top of my priority list."

"Okay, good, don't make plans," he smiles, and I furrow my eyebrows. "No, I won't tell you; yes, it's a surprise; don't ask more questions," he says firmly, and I laugh, rolling my eyes. "How was your trip?"

"Exhausting," I shrug. "Exhibit A," I tease, gesturing to Kent, who's dead asleep through our conversation, and Mark laughs.

"Cool, well, I'll let you two be, just thought I'd check in," he says kindly, and I smile.

"You've been cool about this recently, and I appreciate that," I whisper. "Not just for me but for him; your friendship is important to him." Mark's face softens, and his smile reaches his eyes.

"I do it for you," he says, and I smirk.

"Bullshit," I answer, and he sighs, shrugging his shoulders.

"Bye, Juls," he answers kindly, leaving us alone, and I smile down at Kent, who's breathing softly.

"I love you," I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

He doesn't answer, and I sigh, getting rid of my book and snuggling down with him instead. He moves absently in his sleep, letting me get closer, and I smile, feeling comfortable. I'm sure I've got more sleep in me somewhere.

When I wake up again, I feel fingers running through my hair. I smile slightly, and he chuckles, kissing my cheek.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispers. I blink my eyes open only to meet his bright green ones. He looks better, much less stressed out. I'll make sure we don't end up in New York again for a while, at least not until the summer when both of us have recovered from this trip.

"Hi," I answer easily. "You slept for a long time."

"I had some catching up to do," he sighs, moving his hand over my back in nice even circles. "You know, I spent all weekend with you, and I feel like we didn't see each other."

"I know what you mean," I shrug, shimmying out of his arms to stretch. "I'm sorry I pushed you so hard to go; I didn't know how bad it was going to be."

"Nah, you didn't know," he insists, shaking his head and sitting up a bit. "Your family's a lot different than mine. I know why it was so important to you." I nod, running my hand through my hair to get it off my face, and he sighs. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know," I whisper, and he leans down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "How about we go to dinner with my folks sometime soon? They'd like it, and I think it would be a nice change of pace."

"I'd like that," he tells me. "Your parents seem to think I'm incredible for whatever reason; that alone is a great reason to go." I shove his arm, and he pretends to dramatically roll away.

"Mom used to worry I was lonely. I think us being together makes her worry less," I shrug, sitting up a bit and kicking my foot into my textbook by mistake. I groan and reach down, getting it from its less-than-ideal place in my bed.

"Doing some light reading, were you?" He teases, and I roll my eyes as he takes it from my hands. "Native North American Art?"

"Yes, my class on Tuesday is about Native pottery and baskets from the Navajo and Apache," I explain, and he snorts, as if to say 'that's stupid! "You'd probably find it interesting," I counter, and he shrugs.

"I probably would; I just couldn't read that much every week. My brain would die," he insists, passing it back. "I'll take a spoken summary of your chapter though over a cup of coffee."

"Oh, aren't you smooth," I tease with a grin, putting it on my nightstand. "And a little bit of a slacker."

"How about it?" he suggests, nudging my arm, and I laugh.

"One, it's almost six o'clock; I don't need a coffee. Two, I haven't even read it yet, and three, it's Valentine's Day tomorrow. I forbid you from doing anything nice for me until then," I tell him, crossing my arms, and he laughs out loud. "In fact, get out; I need to study."

"No," he says, laying back on my bed with his arms above his head. "You can't get rid of me."

"Fine then, stay quiet," I tell him, shuffling out of bed and over to my desk with my book. I hunt for my laptop in my bag and pull it out, opening a blank document, and I get out a stack of sticky notes to write my observations on and then stick them into my book.

"Did you hear back yet about your Master's program?" He asks in passing, and I shake my head.

"Not yet, no," I mumble. "Did you apply to an MBA at Brown?" I ask, twisting around in my chair, and he sighs.

"Yeah."

"Did you get in?"

He pauses for a second before answering. "Yeah," he shrugs, and I blink.

"That's amazing!" I insist, feeling excited for him. "Are you taking it?"

"I don't know yet," he admits honestly. "It'll depend on you and where you go."

I feel guilt sink like a rock in my stomach. I look at him, and he sighs, shaking his head, as if he can sense my thoughts.

"Your dad was right, you know, you should follow where you want to be."

"Juls, I'm going to puke if you ever say my dad is right, again," he warns, and I shrug. "I don't want to be anywhere without you. Could we do long distance? Sure, but I don't want to do that. I didn't even last the month that you went to Northwestern. I want to be near you. You're the one who's making choices and crossing your fingers for things; I want you to make the best choices for you."

I smile a bit, feeling my heart warm slightly, and he sighs, sitting up and running a hand through his hair.

"Okay," I answer, and he nods. "I just want you to be happy."

"You're a pretty key part of that being the case, Juls," he answers, and I smile, standing up and walking over to the bed, straddling his lap and placing my hands on the sides of his face.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assure him, and he smiles at me, leaning his head up to press a quick kiss to my lips.

"You sure you need to study?" He asks, sounding hopeful, and I nod. "Yeah, sorry," I mumble. "I didn't get a lot done this weekend."

"That's okay; I understand," he sighs. "You want me to make dinner?" "Only if it's not gross," I whisper, putting my hands on his chest. "You have to season your food, and if there's one fake carb in it, I'll know," I warn, and he laughs.

"Fine, I'll change it a little bit," he grumbles. "You put one tablespoon of low-sodium margarine into something, and you never hear the end of it."

"That shit was gross; use butter like a real man," I tease, and he chuckles. "I love you."

"I love you too," he answers, kissing my forehead and disappearing from my room. Maybe Mark was right; he could be a little bit whipped. But was that a bad thing? I didn't think so.

"Girl, I don't understand why you're so upset and anxious about this shit," Abby says as we walk through the mall. It was Valentine's day, the accursed day in question, and I didn't have a clue what to give him.

He'd been so cute the last few days, cooking dinner, baths, not wanting to be away from me. He'd brought me around a bunch while we were in New York, and I was struggling to figure out one thing to give him.

"It's Valentine's day," I mumble, and she laughs. "Abby, I've never had a Valentine's day with a boyfriend before. I don't know what to do."

"Just be naked when he gets back from class today," she shrugs, and I elbow her. "What? It's a great plan—"