Messages on a Coffee Cup

Chapter 20

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  I placed a sleeping bag and a pillow on to Kimberly's sofa and turned off the T.V. I was beginning to walk up the stairs to retrieve more blankets when he suddenly picked me up from behind, spun me around, and brought his face closer to mine. Without thinking, I went on my tips of my toes and gently pressed my lips against his; he gratefully returned the favor.

   What was once a simple kiss on the lips slowly evolved into full on making out which then slowly evolved to the strategic removal of some clothing. We climbed into the sleeping bag I had assembled earlier and lied there for a while, me in my bra and underwear, him in his boxer-briefs, as he enveloped me in his warm lacrosse player arms. I felt him brush away a hair from my cheek and turned my head so that it was facing his. Our noses were nearly touching when my nerves took over. I stopped myself from blurting out the worst thing I could have possibly said in this situation. But, let me tell you, I couldn't keep lying to myself anymore, I needed to let it out. Finally, I released all hopes and said it as fast as possible.  

   "Ethan Abrams, IthinkIloveyou," I whispered, quickly.

   He kissed me on the forehead and said, "Holland Summers, IthinkIloveyoutoo. And that's exactly why I am resisting every urge in my mind; because I love you."

   "Well, why don't you show me how much you love me," I whispered back, "And make me a coffee?" I thoroughly enjoyed playing this game with an extremely horny 16-year-old athlete.

   "Okay," he mumbled through a huff.

   "Okay," I confirmed.

   He chuckled, walked over to the coffee machine, and turned it on. After a few minutes of annoying coffee maker noises, he returned to his spot on the couch, cuddling behind me, and carefully handed me my coffee. It was completely black, no sugar. Perfect. I looked back at the clock, eleven-fifteen already.

 ~

   That was nothing compared to the next few hours that we spent just cuddling, talking, and drinking coffee. Throughout this conversation, I learned that his middle name is Colton, he actually enjoyed reading Macbeth, he has never been on a roller coaster, and he has, much like me, a mild case of insomnia.

   At around four-fifteen, we both began to show signs of fatigue and sleepiness.

   "I'm pretty tired," he stated through a yawn.

   "Yeah, me too."

   "Will you stay with me?"

   "Who said I was leaving?" I retorted.

   I heard him chuckle as he kissed me repeatedly.

   "Hey, E?"

   "Yeah," he responded, warily.

   "No amount of coffee can keep me awake longer than the thought of seeing you."