Fragment #1 - What else ?

The crashing pillow wakes me up and leaves me puzzled for several seconds. The giggling girl rushing out of the bedroom and her light footsteps on the wooden floor help me put my thoughts back in their right order and place. I groan and mutter to my blanket.
_ You know, I yell, when I asked you to wake me up, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind!
_ ‘called you twice. Wake up you sloth!
I so hate when she calls me that way. And she knows it. I massage my numb right arm, rushing the blood into it before I even try to lift it and dress myself up. My head hurts and my muscles are aching. I’m still unable to bend my left ring finger, and it proudly shows a delicate bluish shade. I never get used to finger sprains, thought maybe after sixteen years, I should. I definitely haven’t drunk enough yesterday, my legs feel like someone crafted them from a lead block during the night. With the subtle elegance of an elephant, I walk through the apartment, heading for the kitchen where she must have stewed herself a coffee, according to the smell.
She had enough time to buy us croissants, I really must have been difficult to wake up. I grab one and put it into the warm oven. I watch it browning and let the scent run from my nostrils to my lung. Damn, these things do smell good! I never managed to get a suitable croissant when I got back to Ireland. The French may be arrogant jerks about almost everything, but they deserve to be proud of their cooking. For almost two years I’ve settled myself here, my tasting experience improved tenfold.
I surely miss Ireland’s forty shades of green, but I love France. Although I make it a point of honour to never admit it in front of my friends here. My life never felt so stable and so complete. I’m fulfilling my every dream here. The transition wasn’t that hard, particularly here, in Charente, where a lot of English people are renovating old barns and houses. My first six months, I’ve spent more time speaking English than French. That’s how I met Melaine too. I couldn’t imagine my life without her now.
I bend over her shoulder and try to give her a gentle kiss. She evades my lips and starts rushing through the corridor, laughing. I follow her, trying to catch up.
_ Just wait for I put my hands on you! I threaten her.
She turns left and enters my room, then she faces me, with a look I’ve learned to appreciate.
_ I’d like to see that.
She grabs my hand and we both collapse on the bed.

What else should I want?