I don't sleep straight away when I get there. Doesn't matter how tired I am, I can't sleep knowing my dad's right outside. Oh and he spat at us. That was nice of him. Frankly it was a much more civil greeting than I was expecting. I dither around by the window, debating whether to go down and tell him to fuck off or not. When I see my mum walk out and get in, I sigh in relief. Though that does make me wonder where granddad is. Did he stay? I watch the car move off and eventually climb into bed.
I lie there like that, half awake until Hadley comes up. Did I ever mention that sleeping alone in an unfamiliar bed makes me uneasy? Well there you go. No matter how tired I am, I won't sleep until I'm not alone.
"Hey," Hadley says quietly when he comes in. I pull my eyes away from the wall to look at him and smile. I sort of watch as he strips to his boxers, but my eyes aren't really focussed so as much as I'd liked to have watched properly, he ends up being a kind of blur that climbs into bed with me. I snuggle instinctively, searching for his familiar warmth to send me to sleep.
"Your grandpa's nice," he says, playing with my hair.
"Yeah," I hum, closing my eyes. I'm too tired to argue that he's an embarrassing old man.
"Can we bring him back to Hollywood?" I sort of hum again, not really knowing what he asked. "I'm being serious." Oh, well don't be. I don't know what you're even saying to me.
"Tell me in the morning," I mumble. I hear him chuckle and I'm vaguely aware of him cuddling up to me before I pass out.
In the morning, I ignore the feeling of being hit over the head with something heavy and blink into the light filtering in through the curtains. I let out a low groan, regretting not having pulled the curtains shut before collapsing on the bed.
"You sound cheerful," Hadley smiles. As a usual rule of thumb, I hate morning people. Hadley is a morning person.
"Ever noticed I hate mornings?" and waking up in general. He chuckles and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes again, perfectly happy to stay there, right where I am.
He starts to hum a random song and I smile, cuddling up to him. His fingers tangle in my hair and he plays with it again. Honestly, he's doing everything that'd send me back to sleep while I'm all drowsy like this.
It's only when he prods me gently, that I realise I had actually been drifting off again. Oops.
"Sorry," I mumble. He smiles.
"Don't be. Still jetlagged?"
"Mmm." I knew I should've slept when he did on the plane, but I was too focused on panicking about my dad being there to manage more than a couple of light naps.
"You suck," he says, kissing me. I kiss back sleepily. At least I do til there's a knock on the bedroom door.
"Max," granddad says through the thin wood, "c'mon, get up. You'll only make your jetlag worse if you stay in there all day." I scowl at the door.
"The man speaks the truth." I grumble under my breath. So what if they're right? Who says I wanna move? He kisses me again and I whine. Well, I kiss back and then I whine. That's black mail. "Get up." I'm about to complain to him about how comfy I am when granddad walks past again and notices I'm still not out of bed. He knocks on the door again.
"Max, get your ass out of bed and go buy your boyfriend some warm clothes so he doesn't freeze."
I hate it when people gang up on me.