Everything Has Changed: Book Two

Chapter Twelve: Lock The Door

I hope you guys know there's going to be a third book...and when I do a time skip, I'm doing it my way lol, I have plans for this book and the next one, and it has to be done right. With that said, I decided I will do a timeskip in a couple of chapters

Also, the new cover is by @rileytheripple     It's great, right? <3

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Chapter Twelve: Lock The Door

I shift my body against Danny's and put another stroke of the green colored pencil.

"And I want palm trees." I murmur. "But can palm trees live through snow?"

"I'm not sure." Danny murmurs. "And how do we know we're living somewhere with snow?"

"We just are, I think." I shrug.

"Well I want a double porch in the front and back." He says. "And a wooden door, you know? But white."

"With windows on the sides." I murmur. "I agree."

"Great." He whispers.

It's been about a week since my mental breakdown, and I haven't spoken to my Dad since. Aunt Isabelle and Uncle Logan are back, and after a lot of talk, we all decided Danny and I get the guest room because we need privacy more than Caleb and Beatrice, so they have a pullout couch in the basement.

Danny and I tried to switch with them because it feels wrong, but they were insistent.

The hurricane ripped through Florida and turned into a tropical storm in Georgia. I guess the Florida Keys and Miami got most of the damage aside from Cuba and Puerto Rico.  There's millions of people without power, including Miami University.

I definitely don't want to deal with sweaty, horny young adults.

Unless of course, that sweaty horny young adult is Danny.

"You want a staircase going up to the front door?" I ask. "I'm thinking we do that with bricks that aren't exactly red but aren't not red, you know?"

I just hums in agreement. His fingertips are grazing up and down my arm.

"Are you actually listening to anything I'm saying?" I ask.

"Yes." He says. His fingers graze against my neck, gently nudging my hair out of the way.

"What did I just say?" I ask him.

"You said you want to paint the house red." He says. "But not normal red, a really bright red."

"That's literally the exact opposite of what I said." I grumble. I can feel his breath on my neck.

"We have a while to plan the house." He murmurs.

"So?"

"So," he reaches around me to push my sketchbook and colored pencils off the bed.

"Danny!" I exclaim. I can feel something pressing against my back and I know exactly what it is judging by his mood.

"We can finish later." He says. "I mean, finish the picture. We can actually finish though, right now."

I just sigh and bend over to pick up my sketch book and colored pencils.

"You're interrupting the creative process." I say, settling back into his lap.

I feel his head slump against my shoulder and I start drawing again.

After a few seconds, he lifts his head and moves my hair again. I decide to ignore him and work on my drawing, because if I'm in the creative process and I get interrupted, it can be hard for me to get back into it, and I'm not willing to risk it.