naive | ben tyler cook

extra #1: morning, sleepyhead

it was a humid sunday afternoon in rylee's apartment. her dog, frank, was stretched out across the hard wood floors, his furry feet pawing at the air as he dreamed about dog things. the air conditioner, which was stuck between the ledge and the half-open window, hummed, shooting out cool waves that ruffled frank's fur.

a flowery smell circulated through the studio apartment, emitting from the plug-in wax melter on the kitchen counter. an old sandwich sat a few feet away from the tiny machine with a huge bite mark out of its side.

rylee, the eater of the sandwich, was passed out on her couch, curled up in a position similar to a fetus. beside her was the one and only ben cook, with his arms wrapped around her and his face shoveled into her hair.

small blots of sweat dotted both of their skins because of the warmth being passed between the both of them, but neither cared. they were happy to be laying there together, and they even had light smiles lazily drawn over their lips.

afternoon naps had never really been rylee's thing: ben, however, too them religiously. when they first started dating, he slowly convinced her that they god's greatest gift. eventually, she gave in- mainly because she wanted to cuddle with him more often than that.

so, there they were, the middle of july tourist traffic buzzing outside of rylee's apartment building, frank snoring on the floor behind the couch, ben's eyes fluttering open, kisses pecking across rylee's face. she opened her eyes, an immediate grin growing.

ben planted his lips on her own, "morning, sleepyhead."

"afternoon, btc."