M Seeking M

Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Cats that sleep on your face, my personal texting guru and thenext right thing

Monday morning was surreal. I sat on my ball chair, stared at the code and just couldn't make myself even want to function. I was exhausted but wired at the same time. My 3 lattes probably hadn't helped but I'd been at a loss as to how to kick-start my brain.

All I could think about was Terry. The sex of course, but also pseudo-sleeping next to a guy who snored, a guy who took up most of the bed, a guy whose giant body always seemed to be touching me and whose two cats wanted to sleep on my face. At one point, I'd gotten out of the bed because I was literally afraid I'd fall out with him pressed up behind me. I'd crept around quietly to the other side and slid back in, only to be woken from my super light sleep, first by Henry the Hair Machine trying to lie behind my knees, and then by Terry's arm sliding over me. I smiled thinking about it. It was nothing like my fantasy of sleeping with Carson.

That had involved snuggling and then sleeping a blissful, uninterrupted eight hours, only to awaken fresh and ready for morning sex. At Terry's, I'd woken around 4:00am, and then drifted 'til 7:14 when Terry got up to use the bathroom. I was sitting up hugging my knees when he came back and sat down next to me.

"You sleep ok?"

"Yeah, sure." Wait, wasn't I supposed to actually be honest with this guy? "Ok, no actually. I barely slept."

"Was I snoring?" Terry looked at me sideways.

"Not much." There was no way to describe how his snoring had rattled and nourished me. It was like all the silent spaces in my life had this hollow aching ring to them, and suddenly there was this enormous presence in one of those places. My nights had always been lonely. Maybe because I was an only child, maybe because I'd lost my dad too young. This was like the opposite of lonely, but also a big, fat shock. It was like my succulent had been left out in a rain storm and there was no way to absorb all that water.

I jumped as Fatima flopped down into a chair beside me. "Hey babe," she said and I took in the dark circles under her eyes and the pink glow to her nose. A rush of guilt ran through me as I realized I hadn't thought about her for a week. She coughed and it rattled really deep in her chest.

"Holy crap," I said. "You look terrible."

"Always the lady's man," she smiled. She was well enough to paint on that exotic liquid eyeliner, but she wasn't wearing her usual lipstick.

"I'm sorry I haven't checked up on you. You look like you've just gotten back from death's door."

"S'ok. It sounds bad, but the snot fest is easing up. How've you been?"

"Uhh, good. Yeah, fine." I looked at my hands and then the floor. Shit, she was so good at reading me.

"Farshad? What's up?"

"Oh, just..." I waved a hand around and looked at the door. If I was going to tell her anything, I didn't want anyone else to hear me.

She got up, shut the door and sat back down. She put her hand on my knee and gave me those warm chocolaty eyes filled with concern and for some damn reason it made my throat tighten up.

"I asked Carson out," I whispered. She gasped and covered her mouth. I tried to smile. "Yeah, right. Hell froze over."

"Honey, that's great!" She squeezed my arm.

"He turned me down." I watched her beaming smile drain away. "Well, it was more of a not even considering it, than a turning down."

Her big eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. I raised a hand to stall her. The last thing I needed was Fatima the Avenging Angel ripping a strip off Carson for me. "It's fine. I'm over it."