Ever since classes have started at Dalia's college, at a university in D.C., she's had a crush in her Criminal Justice professor, Emily Prentiss. Find out what happens when Dalia is asked to stay after class when she's caught sleeping in Emily's cla...
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I open my eyes to see Emily still wrapped in my arms, sleeping. The room is bright, but I can't reach my phone to check the time. I don't want to move and wake her, but my bladder is telling me different.
I carefully slide my arm out from under the pillow, lifting her arm from my waist. Just as I pick up her arm, she stirs and pulls me closer. "No, please don't leave, you're so warm," she begs, her voice raspy.
"I have to, my bladder feels like it's going to explode," I plead, kissing the top of her head.
"Fine," she sighs, rolling over and pulling the quilt over her head.
I get out of bed and head into the bathroom, peeing and quickly washing my hands, then brushing my teeth. Walking back into the bedroom, Emily is nowhere to be seen. I hear what sounds like dishes clanking, coming from the kitchen. I grab a pair of sweatpants from my bag and slip them on.
Standing at the end of the hallway, I find half asleep Emily trying to brew some coffee. I lean against the wall, taking a second to admire her in only her underwear and t-shirt.
Laughing to myself, I walk up behind her and snake my arms around her waist, kissing her cheek, as she's filling the coffee pot with water. "Good morning, Em," I say.
She smiles. "Good morning, Angel. How'd you sleep?" she asks, her voice still a little raspy.
"Like a rock, with you in my arms and I didn't have a nightmare. How'd you sleep?"
Pressing the button to brew the coffee, she spins around, putting her arms around my neck. "Like a rock," she smirks.
The coffee finishes brewing, so I grab two white mugs out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. Emily fills up the cups, grabbing a packet of Splenda.
"Do you want one?" she asks me.
I shake my head, "No, thanks. I don't like the artificial aftertaste. Do you have any real sugar?"
She gasps, "How dare you talk shit about my secret ingredient. And yes, I did bring some. I remembered when we went to that diner, when you first spent the night at my place, you put a spoonful of sugar." She reaches into another cabinet and hands me a little container of sugar.
"Wow, you remembered that?" I ask her, taking a sip of my coffee.
She takes a sip of her coffee and smiles. "You remember the little things about the people you care about, and besides, I'm a profiler."
"Right," I laugh.
I walk back into the bedroom to grab my phone off of the nightstand, deciding to sit on the deck to soak up some sun.
Out on the deck, it's surprisingly warm for it being the middle of November. I move one of the lounge chairs into the sun, and sit with my knees to my chest, holding the mug in both hands.
