Magnetism

47 - coffee and cuddles

I would have stayed there for an eternity with her, if she'd asked I'd never have moved again. A weakness and a strength, complete opposites drawn together inside one excellent women. For the first time in knowning her, Ivy fell asleep on me. Her head pressed into my body as she curled herself around me. The thin material of her long sleeved top bunched up at her hands and she enclosed them into her fists. In that condition, Ivy looked unguarded almost defenceless - a state almost unrecognisable on her.

Long before then, I had realised I would never fully understand her. Everyday she gave me more and more, a tiny piece in a massive puzzle that would probably fit somewhere but until then I had to keep it to the side. Some pieces had already fit together, like her copious amounts of empathy that came from her mum, but for the most part I knew parts that didn't quite make sense. But it didn't bother me. It was a luxury that I got to live my life with Ivy in it, and I would take all she gave me asking for little else. Ivy wasn't like everyone else I had met, she was confusing and frustrating at times and yet still made the most sense. Without Ivy, I would be an entirely different person, and I owe her everything for that.

For a couple of hours we stayed exactly there. Ivy drifted in and out of sleep, muttered words about getting up each time she woke, only to give in moments later. It was enjoyable to see a different side of Ivy, I had become so used to her being the one holding me. Ivy's strength was undebatable. Physically, it's how she presented herself but maybe that's what I just portray masculinity as, a strength. And perhaps that in itself reflects how I saw myself. My femininity was a weakness. Female writers and critics would be groaning at that statement, the very women I read about would be arguing adamantly. I suppose it begs the question what masculinity and femininity truly are, from there you can determine if one truly is weak. But anyway, Ivy's mental strength was far stronger then anything caused from her appearance. I could see her thinking through her eyes, hesitation mostly but other then that she had a wall up. A wall that allowed very little of her actual feelings to show unless by choice.

"Hi" Ivy groaned as she regained consciousness again.

"Hi" I said as I put my book down "how are you feeling?"

"Fine"

Shaking my head, I combed my hand through her short hair "liar"

She smiled a little "maybe"

I smiled back. This was a different Ivy. The soft cuddly side wasn't a stranger to me, this was the Ivy I was very much used to. However, allowing me to act in that way with her was like our roles were reversed. Gently, I pressed my lips to her forehead, nothing crazy just a small sign of the care I had for her.

"What are you reading?" Ivy asked, still too sleep ridden to start moving off of me

"Gatsby"

"There was something gorgeous about him"  Ivy muttered

I shook my head, not even surprised"Have you read everything?"

"Gave up after chapter 1"

"And you still remember a quote?"

She looked up at me "Nick is so gay for Gatsby"

"Oh?"

"About as gay as I am for you"

I laughed at her comments and rolled my eyes at her.

"Pretty sure you were gay long before I was around"

Ivy nodded "yeah, I'll let you have that"

After a couple of minutes of small hugs and gentle kisses on the cheek, Ivy began to wake up fully. Ever so slightly, she started to pull away from me and sit up against the headboard. The way she met my eyes with her still sleepy gaze was undeniable in its strength. Her eyes burned within her, warm caramel that sparked a warmth within me purely from the eye contact. It would be impossible to determine if she knew it, maybe she did, not in the moment but I almost thought it was intentional. But that's irrationality.