Come On, Sweet Catastrophe

I was sat with my legs extended out in front of me, eying my purple toenails as I lent against the arm of the burgundy sofa. I was pulling at the loose threads of the t-shirt I was wearing--An old Tom Petty shirt of Ryan's that was ridden with tiny, little holes and had faded from black to a washed out charcoal colour. I didn't do a single thing that afternoon. I just sat on the sofa of Ryan's quiet apartment and thought. 

It wasn't often that I got the chance to do this. Not lately, at least. I had always been a person who appreciated their alone time. For at least a little while everyday, I needed quiet and a solitary place so I could get my thoughts in order. Ryan just didn't seem to understand that about me, though. He liked to think aloud. He trusted me enough with his every thought that he didn't have to keep it inside. 

Not that I was hiding anything from him, but I couldn't say what I was thinking out loud. My thoughts were exactly that--Mine. Sharing them made me uncomfortable.

But quiet time for thinking didn't come to easy for me, especially since Ryan insisted I stay at his place the last few days. I couldn't even think with him beside me, because he liked attention and mine especially. I wasn't complaining, though. Not really. When Ryan was around, I wasn't even thinking about thinking.

Ryan came back from his classes shortly after, coming over and kissing my cheek. "What have you been up to?" He smiled lightly, resting his chin on my shoulder. 

"Just thinking." I answered simply, looking down at my hands. 

"Thinking? About what?" He started placing tiny kisses on the side of my neck.

I giggled, pushing him away. "Nothing really. Just life." 

"Ahhhh, life. Yes." He chuckled, standing up straight. "I'll leave you to it, then." 

I smiled, but I knew it wouldn't last. Ryan would get bored and demand my attention in some way. This time, only seven minutes after we spoke, he demanded my attention by standing before me in only his underwear. 

I raised a single brow, looking up at him. "Can I help you?" 

"Yeah, you can." He grinned a wide, cheeky sort of grin. 

I scoffed at him. "Why aren't you wearing clothes?" 

"I think the real question is why are you wearing clothes?" He climbed onto the couch, his knees on either side of my hips. "You should take them off." 

"Why would I do that?" I murmured, looking up at him curiously.

"Because I said so." He said simply.

"You're not the boss of me. You can't tell me what to do." I raised my brows at him and he laughed, gripping the shirt I was wearing and giving it a tug. 

"Actually I can, because this is my shirt-" He took hold of it with both hands and started raising it up, exposing my stomach. "-And I want it back." 

He bit down on his bottom lip, pulling on the tender, reddened skin with his teeth. He was staring down at me from beneath his lashes, losing his cheeky demeanor and replacing it with a more serious one. "I-I can't argue with that logic." I sputtered out, unable to rip my gaze from him. Not even if I wanted to. 

His lips pulled into a winning smile. I was done thinking for today. 

----- 

"You look tired." 

The mop was pulled from my hands before I had the chance to look up. Derek was smiling warmly at me, though you could see he was a little concerned. 

"I'm fine." I smiled back at him, reaching for the mop. 

He pulled it out of my reach. "Go take a nap. I'll finish this." 

"I'm almost done, though." I sighed, looking around at the wet floors. 

"Exactly." He gave me this smile, one that let me know that I wasn't going to win this one. 

I really could use a nap, though. School was taking up so much of my time and I also had to balance Derek and time with Ryan. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do most days was stay in my bed and sleep, but the thousands of dollars I spent on schooling forced me to get up and the fact that I was paying for it myself forced me to go to Derek's after. 

"Thanks, Derek." I said softly, sincerely. 

He nodded, still smiling that warm smile. I stepped carefully across the wet floor, leaving the kitchen and climbing up the stairs. I went into the guest room, taking off my jeans and swearer, climbing into the bed. I was asleep almost instantly. 

I didn't wake up again until several hours later, with the uncontrollable urge to pee. Though my body screamed for me to stay in bed, I pulled off the covers and stood up. I was squirming, shifting from foot to foot as I looked for my clothes. My bladder was screaming at me and I was becoming frantic, because I couldn't find anything. With a groan, I stood in the doorway of my room, looking down each side of the hall. It was empty and I heard the tv playing downstairs. I ran down the hall, to the bathroom and back without any awkward run-ins. I guess Derek heard I was awake and came upstairs, knocking on the door. 

"You up?" He asked softly through the door. 

"Yes, but don't come in!" I called sitting on the bed. "Where are my clothes?" 

I was seriously regretting wearing this flimsy tank top and no bra. I thought I could get away with it, since I wore a big sweater over it, but that only works if I actually kept the sweater on.

"The wash." He said sheepishly. I could just picture the look on his face right now, or the way he was scratching the back of his neck. "I thought I'd finish the laundry for you and saw your clothes on the floor when I walked by... I didn't really think it through." 

I smiled lightly. Though I was left without any clothing, it was really sweet. "Do you have a shirt or something I can wear until they're done?" 

"Oh, yeah. For sure. One sec!" I listened to the sound of his footsteps moving away. He came back moments later, lightly knocking. "I'll leave them just outside the door." 

I didn't get up until I heard his footsteps leave again, pulling the door open and finding a folded shirt and a sweater on the floor. I pulled on the shirt, which was long enough that I could almost feel comfortable wearing it without pants underneath. The house was warm and I decided against putting on the sweater just yet, reluctantly leaving the room. 

Derek was sitting in the kitchen, on a stool by the island. He was reading the newspaper and drinking coffee from a blue mug. 

"Hi." I murmured, coming in and leaning against the island across from him. 

"Hello." He glanced at me quickly, looking back down at the paper. Then his brow furrowed and he looked back up at me again, his gaze on my legs. 

I wondered what he was thinking right now as he looked at me. He had never looked at me like this before. I think he thought I didn't see, because after he shook his head and looked back down at his newspaper. I started to make myself tea, moving around the kitchen. I would look back it him every once in a while and see he was staring at some part of me again. Sometimes, he'd meet my gaze and smile weakly, but other times, he'd shake his head, as if he was trying to shake himself out of his thoughts. 

I was starting to like the way he was looking at me. It could have just been hopeful thinking, but I was pretty sure that he was looking at me the same way Ryan does when I wear only his shirt. I found myself reaching up a lot more, allowing the shirt to ride up, or bending over in front of him rather than crouching down to get into the lower cupboards. I heard him let out a long, slow breath, the sound  getting caught in his throat as I did that. He covered his gasp--well, I think it was a gasp, anyway--with a cough.

"Are you okay?" I asked, turning around to face him. 

He nodded as he drank from his mug, pulling on the collar of his shirt. 

I chuckled, watching him put down his now empty mug. "Is there any hot water left in the kettle?" I nodded and he grinned, pushing his mug toward me. "Make me a tea?" 

I rolled my eyes, but did as he asked, grabbing the Earl Grey from the cupboard. We had fallen into a comfortable silence. When Derek and I were together, we were silent more often than we were talking. It was nice because you had the feeling of companionship, more than you would get from a dog, without having to speak. I could think and I didn't even have to be alone. 

I looked at Derek, who was fully focused on the article he was reading. Again, I wondered what he was thinking when he looked at me. I felt slightly guilty for teasing him, but I still wanted to know what went through his mind. Did he like what he saw? And if he did, did he like what he saw because it was me? I had a feeling that, maybe, he just hadn't seen a woman like this in a very long time. Especially not in person. I think that, maybe, that was why he was staring and that I definitely shouldn't take it personally. 

Even if I really wanted to take it personally.