Me Too

6

I don't know what happened between our fight and the next morning, but as Sunday's sunrise approached, I laid on Sofia's bed, holding her slender body like a teddy bear. When I was a teenager, I dreamt of what this would feel like. This was the fulfilled feeling my heart yearned for when I was younger.

Her breathing was steady, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Mine didn't seem to move, I didn't want to disturb her. I kept my eyes gently shut, and I day dreamed for a while. Nothing was stirring, not even the birds or wind outside made a sound. Serene silence, and warmth from the blankets we shared at our legs. Our bodies are lined against one another, her back arching into my stomach, her legs threatening to tangle in mine if she were to move. Her head was bowed away from me, mine rested on a stiff pillow; I wanted so much to kiss her head under my nose. I had my arm draped over her and I held her, barely touching my fingertips on her prominent ribs.

She shifted at the stroke of seven, groaning sexily. I didn't take my arm away from her, but I pulled the shoved off comforter to her stomach to warm her. She rolled onto her side, facing me. Her head curled into my neck and I pressed a kiss to her temple.

Sofia moaned, her breathing picking up pace as her mind began cranking out morning cheers. It's a beautiful winter morning, and she is ready to take it on, she was telling herself. The sun will brighten our lives today. The window is covered, but I can still sense the day break creeping over the Hollywood sign behind our building, warming the air of the city and the water of the ocean.

Today marks day one of our separation.

"Dove?" She strained, stiffening her body as she yawned away from me. "What time is it?"

I perform like a preztle man to grab her phone, my body still entangled in hers. "Six." You're not going to find anyone better than me. Quit trying. "Uh," I stuttered. My eyes read the screen like a book I'll never finish after line one.

She caught the hesitation, cracking her eyes open like they'd been sewn. "What?"

"You have a text. Sorry." I hand it to her, pulling my leg towards my body, away from hers. I get out of the bedding, the shorts clinging to my thighs burns against my skin. "Good morning."

She was on her ninth repeat of the words, her mouth slightly agape. "Morning."

"Should we talk about last night?" I ask shyly. Another random thought, I suppose.

She quickly got out of bed, slamming her phone into the sheets, losing it within the creme and white. She had her eyes gently closed, leaning over the bed. "We should go out to do something. Make it clear we're not together."

"Shouldn't we at least wake up first before we dive into our teenage antics?" I ask, brushing my finger under my eye.

She crawled to the center of the bed with a chalky grin and I leaned in to kiss her. I set my hands on her lower back and I bowed over the matress. Her left hand tore through my tangled hair while her right held her body weight.

The only difference between this and a year ago is my chest is touching the other's beating heart, the chin mine is brushing against isn't scratchy, and the feeling of desire is mutual. Besides Sofia being a woman and Ryan being a man, the biggest difference is that I love waking up next to Sofia. And I would give my last 1,000 days just to wake up next to her every morning.

She pushed hard against my mouth before gently tugging away, separating herself. I lost the sensation of her heart beating on my chest. "I'll get you coffee and we can begin whatever games we'll play."

"I don't need any," I say. I open the bright window, the sun has forced its own wake up call, it lit the sky and shone through the shutters and curtains. "I'm going to shower and get dressed, then you can, and we can leave," I tell her.