Eddie Munson Imagine

56. "Do you want me to stay?"

Your impending loneliness must have been obvious, because Eddie paused at his place at the window and turned back to you. You were still getting redressed, pulling your pajamas back on, and Eddie watched you for a moment, his big brown eyes canvassing you. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked, and you finally looked up at him.

You shrugged, even though you fully knew your answer. Yes, you did want Eddie to stay. You wanted him to stay forever, to become a fixture in your bedroom, never to leave the warmth and comfort of your bed. "If you want," you told him. "I know you typically leave pretty quickly..."

Eddie's body deflated, and he stepped down from the windowsill. "I mean," he started. "I only do that because I thought you'd want me to leave."

You shook your head, smoothing down your shirt. "If you don't want to leave, you don't have to," you told him. "It doesn't matter to me."

"I think it does, though," Eddie said with a light chuckle. He was already fully dressed, ready to leave, and he carefully slipped off his denim vest. "You look so sad."

"Wow," you uttered. "Thanks, Ed."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Eddie said quickly. You quickly found yourself wrapped back in his arms, his smell of cheap cologne and cigarettes and weed enveloping you, and he added, "If you want me to stay, just say the word."

You sighed and fell into his arms, and you settled your forehead against his shoulder. Truthfully, you liked Eddie. Your little sex arrangement was supposed to be just that- sex.

He would sneak into your room at night, he would fuck you, and then he would leave, and, at school, you both pretended like you didn't know each other. Recently, though, the plan seemed to be backfiring, because a certain pain would persist in your chest as Eddie left, leaving the smell of his cologne in his wake.

Maybe you did want more from him, although you weren't sure what. A relationship? Acknowledgement that friends with benefits never worked out? You weren't sure. Whatever you wanted, you knew that him holding you like this was a step in the right direction.

"Maybe just this once," you mumbled, and, if you had seen his face, you would have seen the satisfied smile that stretched across his pink lips.

"Just once," Eddie echoed, and you laid back with him, pressing your hand to his chest. His fingers lightly played with the hem of your shirt until he reached under your shirt and lightly traced the skin of your back. Maybe, you thought, you could get used to this.