Ache With Me

I woke up at nine o’clock on the dot, with a pounding headache and someone snoring softly next to me. I lifted myself up on one elbow very slowly and carefully, to look at the sleeping beauty in my bed. Max’s blond hair spilled over the pillow, his mouth hanging open slightly like a little kid. He was lying on his side facing away from me, one arm under his head and the other curled in the sheets. At some point he must have taken off the black tank top he’d worn under his button-down. I’d seen some of his tattoos, mostly on his arms, but now I had the opportunity to examine the art that decorated his chest.

Unfortunately, trying to focus my eyes was making my head hurt worse so I dropped back down on the pillows. His back was pale and smooth, dotted here and there with freckles. Wrapping one arm around his slim waist, I cuddled up as best as I could in my present condition. He stirred slightly when I pressed my lips to his shoulder, then sighed and snuggled his face into the pillow. He was so absolutely adorable in that moment I could barely hold back a squeal.

Being with Max was like breathing: easy, but absolutely necessary. He was smart and funny and creative and kind, not to mention drop dead gorgeous and an excellent kisser to boot. I was extremely attached to him in a very short amount of time and the thought of that scared me, honestly. Since I’d met him, we’d spoken on the phone for hours almost every night, and spent extraordinary amounts of time together.

Max shifted in my arms, startling me a bit. He rolled over to face me, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Good morning Lily.” He murmured, wiggling downwards until he could rest his head on my chest. I stroked his hair absentmindedly, combing my fingers through the blond strands. He let out a soft noise of pleasure and pulled himself closer to me. I was pretty sure he wasn’t totally awake yet, based on the slow, even rhythm of his breathing. Soon I fell back asleep, one hand still resting in his hair.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was alone and I could smell frying bacon from the next room. I sat up slowly and groaned when the movement made my head spin. I was hung over, not enough that I thought I’d throw up, but just enough that my head was pounding like someone was jackhammering my skull.

I stumbled out of bed, pausing to take stock of myself in the mirror. My hair was standing up at all angles and my eyes were bloodshot. I’d picked probably the holiest shirt possible. I could see my ass and parts of my chest through the holes. Another testament to how lit I was last night was the fact that I hadn’t taken off my rings. I stacked them on the dresser and put my bra back on before finding a pair of boxers and some thick socks to put on.

The sound of the curtain rings on the railing sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He turned at the sound and his face broke into a brilliant smile. “Ahh, I see you’ve risen from the grave!”

“Oh hush up.” I crossed the loft to wrap my arms around his waist. He’d put his tank top back on and pulled his hair into a tiny bun at the nape of his neck. I jerked away from him suddenly when the bacon spat oil onto my hand.

“What happened?” He looked down at me worriedly.

“Nothing, just a little oil burn.” I ran some water over it, more for his benefit than my own. I’d been burned with oil more times than I could count. He cradled my hand in his much larger ones before bringing it to his lips.

“Food’s almost ready, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to use your coffee machine.” I laughed and went to make the coffee. Within minutes we were sitting down to a veritable feast.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” I said between bites of bacon. He’d managed to make it crispy but not burned, something I could never accomplish.

“You never asked.” He winked at me over his cup of coffee. “Nah, I’m just too lazy to cook most of the time.”

“Completely understandable.” We finished our breakfast in comfortable silence. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”

“Nope, I’m a free man.” I think he understood what I was getting at. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.” And so we did, but first I brushed my teeth and found a spare lying around so Max could brush his too. Then we crawled back under my sheets, Max lying flat on his back so I could rest my head on his shoulder.

“I definitely do not feel like doing anything today.” I mumbled, marveling at the feeling of his skin next to mine. Max was beautiful in a way that I couldn’t quite describe. His smile was a little bit crooked, his hair was always messy, and he dressed like a homeless punk boy sometimes, but the sum of all his parts was beautiful.

“This is doing something.” He ran his long fingers up my spine gently and I shivered, moving closer to him. “We’re talking. And cuddling.”

“Okay so this is all I want to do today.” I added, “smart ass,” under my breath and he laughed.

“I always knew you liked my ass.”

“Well have you seen it? It’s so cute and perky.” His hand trailed lower down my back until it was resting over the waistband of my boxers.

“I don’t think you know what an amazing ass you have.” He whispered in my ear.

“What ass? I have the body of a thirteen year old boy.” I’d never broken out of an A-cup and my hips were so narrow I could wear pants from the boys’ department.

“I love your body. It’s…not typical, if that makes any sense.” When I looked confused, he continued, “There are plenty of people out there who will tell you if you don’t have curves you’re not a real woman and I think that’s bullshit. You can be a real woman and have a penis, or be a real woman and have small breasts and narrow hips. I think your body is different and I love the way you look.”

“Max I’m going to cry.” I was a very emotional person and found myself on the verge of tears often, sometimes over the stupidest things. I started crying after watching a dog food commercial once.

“Don’t do that.” The horror in his voice made the tears dry up as I burst into giggles. “I can’t handle women crying, never been able to stomach it.” We changed the subject and spent most of the day either napping or talking quietly. Around eight, we decided it was time to get dinner and ordered Chinese food from my favorite place, conveniently located around the corner.

Tim, the delivery guy, seemed surprised to see Max when he opened the door.

“Hi Tim!” I called from the kitchen where I was pouring us glasses of water. Wine just didn’t go with Chinese food.

“Hey Lily.” He counted out the change for Max. “Enjoy your food.” He left in a hurry and I had no doubt the next time I went to Jade Dragon I was in for an interrogation from Mrs. Ping about the man in my loft.

The two of us ate out of the take out containers with forks in front of the TV. Neither of us had bothered to put actual clothes on; Max was still in his tank top and boxers, I was in my holey shirt and shorts. My headache has dissipated sometime during the day, a fact I was thankful for since we were watching Iron Man and the explosions would have made my head pound otherwise.

Even though we’d spent the day in bed, we got back in after we ate and cuddled and talked some more. Eventually around midnight I fell asleep. Max would tell me later that I’d talked in my sleep about Robert Downey Jr. for most of the night.