— Warmth envelopes your skin, the soft air conditioning keeps the room cool. The difference is stark, but a nice contrast.

When your eyes open, you expect to see the neon the boy band posters taped messily on your rooms wall, the zebra print bed comforter and all of your stuffed animals from home. But no, you’re met with sleek white sheets, almost the same colors as the walls. Your eyes snap to the mirror beside the bed, only to see someone who looks just like you but… older.

You remember being at your thirteenth birthday party. It was going terrible, your closest two friends were Art and Patrick. Patrick invited some of his friends— he was exceeding in the popular division, way more than you and Art.

The party wasn’t a hit, the kids Patrick invited were so painfully bored. A suggested game of seven minutes in heaven with the guy you liked got you in a closest, everyone but Art left to go find soemthing better to do. It made you so upset that you stayed hidden in the closet, crying into your arms while chanting the phrase “I want to be thirty, and flirty, and thriving.”

Thats the last thing you remember before falling asleep in the closest and waking up here.

In the mirror, you see a blonde head of hair tucked into the mattress. One rather large arm wrapped around your waist. You’re freaking out, like freaking out. You were just a thirteen year old girl and now you’re in bed with— your husband? You note the matching wedding rings on your left hands.

A quick shift and you’re facing him, pulling at his head so you can see the man’s face. At the sight of a familiar, yet older and not-so boyish face you’re in shock. “Art?”

He shifts, back muscles tensing and releasing when he flips onto his side. Those blue eyes, the same ones you used to love looking into when you were still thirteen meet yours.

A sleepy smile grows on his face and he’s sitting up, pushing away your hair to kiss your neck. ”Morning, baby. How’d you sleep?”