Can I Stay?

With one last gentle, coaxing motion from the very tip of my tongue, her thighs clenched around my head and her hips bucked upwards, the breath in her lungs escaping in a loud shrieking moan. Her fingers yanked even harder at my hair and I lifted my eyes to watch her face as my hard work paid off. I smirked, softly licking at her center until she fully came down, watching her eyes squeeze shut and fly back open, her teeth biting down on her plump bottom lip. Slowly, her muscles stopped clenching and she was finally able to catch her breath, her chest heaving with every inhale of oxygen. Her fingers uncurled from my hair and she placed her hands next to her hips, gripping the sheets. I pressed a short trail of gentle kisses to the inside of her thighs before I reached for her ankles, unwrapping her legs from my neck and placing them gently down onto the bed.

I sat back on my knees and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, giving her a smile. As always, she blushed, giggling, and covered her face with a blanket. I gave her hip a gentle pat before I stood up, surveying the cherry hardwood floors for my own clothes, mixed in with hers. As I tugged my jeans up over my hips, I glanced at the clock, reading that it was just after midnight. If I hurried, I'd beat her out the door before she--

“You can stay, if you want,” she said quietly.

Shit.

I didn't look up, I concentrated on zipping up my jeans and fastening the button, tightening my belt around my hips. “Nah, I think I'll go,” I said, searching for my shirt. I found it near the bedroom door, the necklace that had been around her neck when I arrived was tangled up in the sleeve. I pulled it over my head quickly and placed her necklace on the dresser. I slipped my feet into my shoes and tousled my hair before I turned to her. “See you later, yeah?”

She had pulled the comforter up over her body and had it bunched up under her chin in her hands. Her cheeks were flushed a lovely shade of red, her eyes still held the sharp intensity of her high, and her long hair was rumpled from my hands.

With a wave, I pulled open the bedroom door and tugged my phone and keys from my pocket as I descended the staircase, locking the front door behind me as I left. Just like I always did. This was a regular routine.

Tonight had been a fairly short visit compared to other nights, only an hour and a half, both of us wanting one another with such a passion that it had taken almost no time to push one another over the edge. This was just how we did it, we never faltered from our routine. One of us would have the urge to feel another body close to ours, so we'd show up, unannounced. There was never any plans made, no flirty texts. If I wanted her, I knocked on her front door. If she wanted me, she'd knock on my door. We were always straight to the point, our lips meeting before the front door was closed behind us, pulling at our clothes as we struggled up the staircase and hands groping in all of the right places. I knew her body as well as she knew mine. We knew which buttons to press, how to read the signals. We were able to communicate what we wanted without words, only needing to speak with our hands, lips and tongues.

We never discussed what happened. We never texted to say “I miss you” and we never flirted in public. We never went to dinner, never shared a bottle of wine. This wasn't a relationship, it didn't require love and affection. It didn't require tender touches and pretty words whispered in the darkness. It only required a mutual attraction to one another and the magnetic powers that we couldn't control.

We never stayed...But we were always given the option.

Whenever she asks me to stay, I avoid making eye contact with her. I can see the hope, the desperation in her eyes, wanting me to pull my shirt off and climb back into bed with her. I don't want to see the hurt and sadness fall over her face when I shake my head and say no, so I quickly get dressed and bolt out the door. I don't know what she does when I go. Maybe she cries. Maybe she hates herself, hates me. Maybe she just shrugs and turns off the lamp, rolling over into sheets that smell like me and falls asleep.

On the nights when I lay in bed and watch her as she slips back into her bra and panties, I tell her the same “You can stay, if you want” and I watch as her fingers freeze, stalling for just a second, as if she could very easily unclasp her bra and toss it back to the floor, slipping back under the thick duvet of my bed. Every time she does this, I hold my breath, hoping. Hoping that she'll do just that. But she never does. Instead, she clasps her bra and shakes her head, taking a deep breath. “Nah, I think I'll pass.”

My stomach sinks and I can feel my heart break just a little bit more, but I just nod my head, even though she's not watching. She avoids eye contact with me, too. So I lay in bed and watch her dress, watch her run her fingers through her hair and slip back into her shoes, picking up her purse from the chair by the bedroom door. She walks out, gently closing the door behind her. I lay in bed and listen to the sounds of her feet on the floors and, finally, the slamming of the front door. At that point, I sigh, shaking my head, knowing what we're doing is toxic. But instead of fighting for it, I flip off my light and burrow down into blankets that have the faint scent of her perfume and pillows that hold the scent of her hair.

I slid into the driver seat and twisted the key into the ignition, feeling the warm air come rushing out of the vents. I rubbed my hands together for warmth and situated my seat belt, avoiding a glance to the window in fear that she'd be standing there, watching me leave. It isn't until I reach the stop sign at the end of the street that I feel any sort of relaxation, any sort of comfort. I know this comfort doesn't last long. I skip my nightly shower just so I can smell her on my skin for a little longer. I set my alarm for tomorrow and I pull back the blankets, lay down and turn off the lamp...And then I start to think about her, wonder what side of the bed she sleeps on. I wonder if she tosses and turns, or if she's a heavy sleeper. I ponder if she's a cuddler, or if she needs her space. Is she an early riser, or does she like to sleep in? I wonder if there's a fan on, or if she likes the room to be warm when she sleeps. Maybe she talks in her sleep. What does she dream about?

I could easily just...not leave. I could stay when she asked. I could pull my shirt off and throw it to the ground and crawl over her body and rest my head on her chest. I could let her fingers sift through my hair as I drift into sleep, wrapped up in the warm confines of her body. But I don't. I never do. I'm too afraid to do it, too afraid to be the first to give in. What we have, whatever it is, works. It's not complicated. I don't have to worry about hurting her feelings and she doesn't have to worry about where I am. I'm too afraid to mess this up, to take away something good.

She isn't just a casual fuck, she's a friend. I've known her for a couple of years.. We get drinks on Friday nights with our group of friends and there are no stolen touches, no playing footsie under the table. I don't buy her drinks and she doesn't get jealous if she sees me talk to another girl. Most of the time, we are only friends and no one knows about our favorite way to pass the time together. No one knows that I slip out of her house in the early morning hours, no one knows that I've watched her head bob up and down on my length and called out her name as she pushed me over the edge. To the rest of the world, we are just friends.

The next morning, with the sun streaming through the windows, I rolled over and turned off my alarm, taking a few more moments to lay in the warm sheets before I started the day. Once again, just like every other time, I wished I was waking up beside her. I wanted to roll over and press my chest against her back and wrap my arms around her, to wake her with gentle kisses to her neck. I want to whisper in her ear and wake her gently, watching her eyelashes flutter open, see her eyes dilate in efforts to adjust to the early morning light. Instead, I woke up and laid alone in my big, empty bed, wondering if she thinks of me in the mornings, too.

I unplugged my phone and checked my Twitter feed, stopping once I saw her name, clicking her photo to view her profile.

10 hours ago: “We're kind of like a revolving door...Never ends, just keeps going.”

I left her house ten hours ago... We are kind of like a revolving door. This never ending cycle that was bound to come unhinged eventually.

2 hours ago: “Good morning, London! Care to warm up a bit? Brrrr...”

She's awake. I sighed, closed Twitter and opened my messages, scanning to her name in my contact list. I never do this. We don't text just to chat, we text when we have a purpose.

Morning. Sleep well?

I threw my phone back onto the dresser and pulled myself from the blankets, stalking towards the bathroom for a wee and a shower. The water was hot and relaxing as I stood beneath it, my eyes closed and breath slow. My muscles in my arms and legs were sore, sore from holding my body weight up above her, from my relentless thrusts into her. The shampoo stung my back, the marks from her fingernails in my skin. Even though she isn't a prominent figure in my life, she's definitely left her mark on me.

Standing in front of the mirror as I brushed my teeth, I skimmed my fingers over the purple marks over my chest, remembering the exact moments her lips had formed those spots. She's got a few of her own, as well, splattered across her cheekbones and, if I had succeeded in my attempts, she's got one on each of her hipbones. Every time I'm with her again, I check her skin to see if the evidence of our last encounter is still visible. If the marks are still there, I darken them again. I wonder if she stands in the mirror and thinks of me when she sees them.

I sat down on the bed and checked my phone, hoping she'd texted me back.

I did. Everything okay?

Yeah, why?

You never text me...

Do you not want me to?

That's not what I meant, I just meant that...This isn't what we do.

I sighed, standing up and shoving my phone into the pocket of my sweats, walking out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Clearly, I'm out of my mind and even she noticed.

I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I didn't mean it like that I just...I'm sorry.

It's fine. I was just saying hi.

Hi.

Hi.

Well, that was awkward. What the hell was I even doing? There are lines drawn for a reason between us, so we can avoid an awkward situation, so we can continue living our lives without having to think about it. We don't have friendly conversation. We don't text just to say hi. The only time we talk is over drinks with our friends or when we open the door to our houses and are face-to-face, lust running through our veins.

Going for drinks tonight with us?

Yeah. See you then.

I was pretty mopey and pathetic all day, watching television and listening to music to pass the time. For some annoying reason, she was on my mind, unshakable. Finally, when the sun began to set, I pulled on a jacket and drove down town, parking just down the street from our favorite place. I hurried in, trying to beat the cold, searching for our group of friends. They all greeted me as I sat down, pulling off my jacket, the bartender placing my usual drink in front of me. I should have felt comforted by all of this, the group of friends, the familiar surroundings, a drink in my hand. This should have been a normal evening and, under different circumstances, it would have been. But this time, I was hyper aware of her. She had sat down directly across from me and I couldn't avoid her. She looked just as fit as usual, her hair soft and smooth, her smile warm and bright. She turned her head and caught my eye, giving me a gentle smile. I returned the gesture.

Tonight felt different. She felt different. Every time I see her, I can't help but let my eyes wander over her curves, to imagine my hands against her bare hips as she slowly rides me, her toned stomach glistening from a thin layer of sweat, dimly illuminated by the lamp on the table across the room. It's so easy to feel the tingle in my fingertips, wanting to reach out to touch her skin and pull her closer. But tonight? Tonight I'm noticing the way she's put on too much makeup in an attempt to cover the freckles she hates. She's straightened her hair, even though I've told her countless times that I like it best when she lets it fall in her natural curls. She's got tall boots on over her jeans, her favorite pair, and the green shirt she's wearing brings out the golden colors in her eyes. Tonight, I'm not noticing her body. I'm not imagining all the ways I could take her, I'm not imagining what it feels like to have her lips against mine. Tonight I'm noticing her.

“Hey, Niall,” she says, pulling me from my trance.

I hesitated for just a second, trying to appear calm and collected, taking a sip from the beer in my hand. “What's up?”

She stood up and moved around the table, sitting down in the chair next to me, her fingers cupped over the rim of her glass, sliding it across the surface. Her nails were red last night, but now they're a pale lavender. “Do anything cool today?”

I shook my head. “Just sat around. You?”

She shrugged. “Errands.”

“You painted your nails. That's not an errand.”

She parted her lips, her small gasp turning into a quiet giggle. “Okay, you got me there. I did errands and then I painted my nails. I'm surprised you noticed.”

I didn't have a response, so I shrugged, turning away from her and gazing across the bar, bored with this place. I didn't want to be here, but I didn't want to be alone, either. “I think I'm heading out.”

“Really? You just got here, haven't even finished your drink.”

I shrugged, tipping back my glass and finishing it quickly. I stood up, pulling my jacket on before throwing cash on the table for my drink. “I'll see ya.”

She nodded. “Later.”

I glanced up at her, surprised by her tone. She wasn't giving me a goodbye, she was giving me a clue. The spark in her eye, the inflection in her tone. I raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. “You know where I'll be.” I shook my head as I turned and walked away, a pep in my step. With just one word, she sent me soaring.

Back at the house, I cleaned up a bit. This was the first time I'd had warning of her arrival, she usually rings the bell at midnight and waits patiently just long enough for me to lock it behind her. She's never seen the rest of my house, just the entryway, stairs, and my bedroom. Plenty of times she's tripped over my boxers on the floor or I've had to shove a laptop out of the way before I could throw her onto the mattress. But this time, I had warning. I had time to throw my dirty laundry into the hamper and change the sheets. I had time to put on a bit more cologne and put some effort into this.

Three hours passed and I hadn't heard from her. For the first two hours, I paced my house in a nervous limbo, not sure what to do. I didn't want to start a game on the telly, it would just be interrupted. I'd already brushed my teeth, so I didn't want to eat or get anything to drink. Finally, just as I was about to give up hope, the doorbell rang and I sprung up from the kitchen table, where I had been mindlessly tearing a napkin to shreds.

I hesitated at the door before I pulled it open, a cold winter wind hitting me squarely in the face. Before I had a chance to step aside to let her in, she had launched herself at me, pushing me back and slamming the front door behind her, her fingers searching desperately for my belt buckle. I groaned, my eyes rolling back into my head just from the feeling of her lips pressed to mine, her teeth grazing my bottom lip, her tongue slipping out to tangle with mine. I pushed her back against the door, my hands braced at either side of her head as she looked up at me, both of our breathing heavy. “Shoes off. Hurry,” I ordered, stepping back to give her room. Without taking her eyes away from mine, she kicked off her boots and lunged for me, jumping up and wrapping her long legs around my waist. I gripped her ass in my hands and found her collarbone with my lips, pleased to hear the soft moan that fell from her lips as I made contact with her skin.

With a new energy in my system, I willed my feet forward, quickly climbing the stairs and pushing past my bedroom door, the door roughly bouncing back off of the wall. Her fingers were buried in my hair as I was tugging her shirt over her head, aching for her bare chest against mine. I patted her hips and she loosened her hold, allowing me to drop her to the bed, her hips rising to aid me in tugging her jeans away. Once the offending denim was tossed to the floor, she sat up and pushed my t-shirt up over my chest until she couldn't reach any further. Once I had a hold on the fabric, she dropped her hands to my pants again, pulling open the button and hurriedly dragging the zipper down. She raked her nails down my thighs, grabbing a fistful of fabric at my knees before yanking my jeans past my hips, her fingers instantly reaching for the hem of my boxers.

I pushed her hands away and pointed to the head of the bed, watching her body curve as she scrambled toward the pillows, her hair fanning onto the navy sheets beneath her head. I crawled over her, running my hands up her body, watching as her teeth bit down on her lower lip, her hips arching for some sort of friction. Her eyes were bright as they met with mine. She sat up and gripped my face in her soft hands, her lips hungry for mine. With a gentle shove, she knocked me on my side and crawled over me, the soft skin of her thighs brushing against my knees. I took a second to appreciate her above me, the taught muscles in her legs as she straddled me, the gentle curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts. A casual fuck or not, she's the most beautiful girl I've been with.

I lifted my hands from the bed and ran my fingertips over her stomach and around her back until I found the clasp of her bra, quickly twisting it and pulling it from her, tossing it to the side before I cupped her breasts in my hands, her skin warm. “C'mere,” I mumbled, dropping my hands to her waist as she lowered herself to me, her hair fanning out across my face as she brought her lips to mine, her hips softly grinding into my body. I flipped her over, my thumbs finding the hem of her underwear and I pulled them from her body, my fingertips tracing down her long legs as I made my way to her ankles. I stood up just long enough to kick my boxers to the floor before crawling back over her, her skin like a warm blanket against mine. As her legs wrapped around my waist, I dropped to my elbows, my forehead against hers, her eyes staring straight into mine as we both tried to control our heavy breathing. I inched up to her and she shut her eyes, taking a deep breath, biting down on her lower lip. I waited for her eyes to flutter open before I pushed forward, growling at the warmth of her body around me. I reached forward and gripped the headboard, pulling my weight forward to fill up every bit of space her body had to offer. Her hips rose to meet mine as I continued to push further and further into her, the sound of her moans combined with the warmth she offered sending me into a dizzy euphoria.

Once I couldn't go any further, I held myself there, taking slow, deep breaths just to feel her clenching around me, her fingernails dragging across my skin as she whimpered beneath me, incoherent sentences spilling from her lips as she tried to convey what she needed from me, what she wanted. I loosened my grip from the headboard and pulled back, pulling myself from her completely. She whined at the loss, wiggling beneath me, searching for a way to relieve the tension, her hands wrapped around my biceps and trying to pull me closer. I pushed forward again, hoping the sound of her moans would continue to replay in the back of my mind for the rest of my life.

“Oh my god, Niall...” she mumbled, closing her eyes and throwing her head back onto the pillows, pulling her lip between her teeth as I began a steady pace, one that would smoothly guide her to what I wanted. To hear my name rip from her mouth, her eyes wide and bright, skin flushed, her body clenching around me.

I willed myself to keep it together, though my body was screaming. She'd never felt this good, she'd never been this tight around me. She'd never been this warm, never been begging for more than I had to give. The sex between her and I had always been incredible, but this was something else entirely. This was new and needy and hungry, an insatiable desire that would take over our senses and leave us wanting more. This was something words would never be able to describe, something I could never share with anyone else but her. This was between us in the most delicious of ways and no one else could ever evoke this from either of us. This was us being able to read signs, a gut instinct of what the other needed, what they craved. Months of experience with one another had led up to this, this one moment where we were both so frozen in time, completely enamored with the other.

“Niall,” she mumbled, her lips searching for mine, a searing hotness coming from her mouth as she brushed her lips across mine.

“I know, I know,” I muttered, gripping her hands in mine. I quickened my pace and she gasped, her legs tightening around my waist. She was close, I could tell, she'd gone quiet, her eyes squeezed shut, holding her breath, leaning up to press her forehead into the crook of my neck. I silently willed her forward, knowing her release would send me flying into my own. Finally she collapsed onto the pillows beneath her and arched her back, her lips parting as my name fell from her lips, her grip loosening from my arms as her body convulsed beneath me. With a yell, I followed her, collapsing onto her seizing body, fisting her hair into my hand, trying to hold consciousness as she continued to clench around me, pulling every ounce I had to give and more.

After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, I took a deep breath and kissed the clammy skin of her neck, not wanting to pull myself from her, not wanting this to end. I kissed across her face as she slowly gained control of her breathing, her heart rate pounding at the skin of her throat slowly returning to normal. With her eyes still closed, she parted her lips and wet them with the tip of her tongue, exhaling slowly. “Wow.”

I groaned my approval into the skin at her collarbones, softly kissing across her chest, my fingers trailing across her ribs, loving the way her stomach clenched at my lingering touch. Her body was still connected to mine, just for a few more minutes, still reacting to me, still mine. I lifted myself from her just enough so I could slide down her body and, reluctantly, slowly pull myself from her, my lips leaving a trail of warm kisses to her body, down the valley between her breasts, across her stomach, dipping my tongue into the hollow of her navel, tasting the skin of her hips and inner thighs. I glanced up at her, her eyes watching, as I took a gentle lick at her core, her stomach clenching under my fingertips. I loved to do this, to taste the mixture of us on her skin, to unravel her tightly bound body for a second time. I liked to sweep my tongue over her swollen bud and hear her sharp intake of breath, feel her fingers delve into my hair to keep me where she needed me. I liked to feel her thighs clench as she comes closer and closer, I like to pull back just before she comes, hear her whimper at the loss of contact, to fall from her high just a bit. Only when I've had enough do I let her come, only when I'm satisfied with the taste of her, only when I feel like I'm ready to see the effects of my tongue roll through her body.

Once she stopped shaking, I pulled my body away from hers and fell onto the blankets, exhausted and fully satisfied. She laid beside me, taking slow, deep breaths as her eyes stayed shut and, for a few moments, I thought she might fall asleep and stay with me, just this once. But, just like always, she sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, standing and padding across the floor, searching for her clothes as she tried to fix the mess of hair on top of her head.

“You can stay, if you want,” I mumbled, praying she'd say yes, hoping that this time would be different. She didn't answer for awhile, busying herself with tucking her shirt into her jeans, pulling her jacket over hers shoulders.

“No thanks, Niall,” she whispered, pulling her keys from her pocket, turning to me. I nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. What we had just shared was...special. How she could leave after that, I don't understand.

She reached for the door knob, but stopped, turning back to me. She was breaking routine, crossing a line. Instead of bolting out of the door, she walked around to the side of the bed and leaned down, placing a gentle, lingering kiss to my lips. And then she left.

I laid in bed, listening as she zipped up her boots downstairs, hearing the door slam and the deadbolt click into place from the key I keep hidden underneath the mat. I listened to the silence until I heard her car start and back out of the driveway, the sound of her engine disappearing into the night. Falling back into our routine, I pulled back the blankets and settled in, turning off the lamp and burrowed down further into blankets that had never held her scent quite so strongly.

I didn't hear from her over the course of the next few days, but she was a constant song in my head. Even after I changed my sheets, I could still smell her. She had branded herself into my memory and as I fell asleep at night, I was comforted, easily able to pretend she was there, the hole in my heart filled just a little bit. In crowds of people on the street, I'd swear I saw her hair blowing in the wind and I'd stalk through the throngs of people, but I never found her. I passed a girl on the street who held her scent and I stopped her and asked what perfume she wore. I could hardly believe my actions as I left a department store holding a bag that contained her scent, so I sprayed my pillows and buried the bottle in the bottom of my sock drawer.
My mom came into town for a few days and on her last night, I took her out to dinner for her birthday. I let her pick the place, a quiet Italian joint just a few blocks away from her house, so my nerves were on end, wondering if I'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her. I'd heard her mention a few times that it was her favorite restaurant, that they had the best ravioli, so I ordered a plate, my heart swelling at the first bite because I was glad I could trust her taste in food. I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand as my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.

You look a lot like your mom.

I glanced up, my eyes scanning the room, heart pounding in my chest.

What's her name?

Maura. Where are you?

Can I come say hi?

Let me come to you. Where are you?

Front desk, getting take out.

I excused myself for the restrooms, trying to make my way slowly through the restaurant so she wouldn't know that I was excited to see her. She was standing by the door, clutching a paper bag in her hands, her winter hat sat atop her head to keep her ears warm. She smiled warmly, waving as I came closer. Her cheeks were pink from the wind, her eyes twinkling in the lighting. “Hi.”

“Hey,” I mumbled, suddenly unaware of what I was supposed to do in this situation. This wasn't in our routine, to say hello in public.

“How are you?”

I nodded, running my hand awkwardly over the back of my neck. “I'm good. You?”

She shrugged, looking down at her feet. “Okay.”

We shared an awkward silence before she cleared her throat. “How long is your mom here?”

“She leaves tonight, actually, her plane is at six.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding her head. “Well, I guess I'll go.”

“Do you have plans for tonight?” I blurted out, catching her off guard.

“No, just a marathon on television tonight, so I'm staying in...Do you?”

I shook my head, stepping closer. “Can I come over later?”

Her eyes widened and for a second she seemed stunned, but she shook her head. “Oh, actually, I uh...Can't.”

I stepped back. “Oh. I just—Never mind, it's cool, I understand, I just thought--”

“No, Niall, it's not that, I just...I can't...Ya know. It's...that time. I've got a few days left before I can...”

“Oh! No, I just meant...We don't have to do... Never mind. Just...next time, yeah?”

She nodded, smiling. “Sure.”

I didn't know if it was okay to hug her, so I awkwardly told her goodbye and watched her leave, climbing into her car and driving down the street before I returned back to my table. I was glad that I got to see her, but it hadn't been enough.

After dinner, I drove mom to the airport and waited with her until her flight boarded, kissing her on the cheek and promising to come home soon. I wasn't in a rush to return to my empty house so I drove through quiet neighborhoods, taking the scenic route. I drove past her house twice, the light shining from her living room onto the street, signaling warmth and comfort. It would be so nice just to curl up on the couch with her and watch whatever marathon was on television. To just be with her for a few hours, to run my fingers through her hair and steal a few chaste kisses. To feel her against me, let the warmth of her melt whatever walls I had left.

This wasn't supposed to happen and, for the first few months, it was fine. She was hot, a good lay. There weren't any questions between us, no feelings, it was just sex. When had it turned out to be so complicated? If I were smart, I'd get out now. Delete her number and never talk to her again. I could find another girl to take her place, to fill lonely nights...But that meant she'd find someone else, too, and I couldn't bear the thought of someone else taking what I felt was mine. Someone else slowly kissing her lips, someone else knowing what she looks like when her tightly bound strings fall apart. Those were my secrets, those were my moments. Mine.

Suddenly sad and angry, I drove home, throwing my keys onto the counter and stalking up the stairs to my bedroom, to sheets that smelled like her, to a bed that held countless memories of our nights together. It was still early, but I didn't have a reason to be awake, I'd just drive myself crazy with my thoughts of her, wondering what she was doing, wondering if she was thinking of me. I stripped down to my boxers and fell into bed but soon enough I pushed the covers back and stalked off down the hall to the spare room, to a bed that held no memory of her. There, I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.

It was then when I realized I didn't need sheets to remind me of her scent. I didn't need the bottle of perfume buried in my dresser. All I needed was my memory. No matter where I went, I could smell her perfume. I could hear her laugh and see her smile. Because I loved her. Because somehow through all of this mess, I had fallen in love with her.

In a few days, I decided, I would show up at her door. I'd show up at her door, unannounced, and I'd get my last taste of her. I'd pour myself into her one last time and I'd leave right after, and I wouldn't come back. If she came to my door, I wouldn't answer. I'd quit her. I'd quit her, cold turkey, and I'd fight the withdrawals until I didn't want her anymore. The only way out of this would be to just...disappear.

On the dresser, my phone buzzed and I picked it up, assuming it was my mother, announcing her plane had landed safely back in Ireland. Instead, it was her.

I know this is probably a bad idea and we don't do this and you can ignore it if you want but...I think I miss you? You don't have to reply to this, you don't have to come over, you probably don't want to...And I don't blame you, this is supposed to be easy and fun and you don't want to just hang out with me, especially when you won't get anything out of it since I can't, but...If you want to come watch tv with me, that'd be really cool. I'm sorry.

I stared at that text message for a few minutes, reading it over and over and over again. “...especially when you won't get anything out of it...” I hadn't just wanted sex from her in months, I'd always wanted to feel her near me. If I had just wanted sex, I had a few girls I could have called, but it had always been her I'd run to. We weren't on an exclusive level, but I always felt like I was hers and hers alone and giving myself to anyone else would have been an insult to her. From the very first time we'd ever come together, I hadn't wanted anyone else, I knew no one else would have felt right...But she didn't know that.

On my way.

I sprung up from the blankets and rushed back to my bedroom, throwing on the same clothes I'd just taken off. I was still pushing my arms through the holes as I grabbed my keys off the counter, shoving my feet into my Supras and jumping behind the wheel without a jacket. I almost forgot to open the garage door before I backed out, in a rush to get to her side. I hit every red light in town and I was forced to drive the speed limit as it seemed like every cop in the city was parked, waiting for an idiot like me to speed past them. As I finally turned onto her street, I tried to calm down, force my heart into its regular beating pattern. I parked and had to focus on turning off the engine and pulling the keys from the ignition. My feet were instantly running once they hit the ground and I tripped up the front steps, my finger hitting the doorbell with such a force I was sure I had broken it. I listened impatiently, wondering what was taking her so long to let me in. Finally, the lock clicked and the door opened and she stood in front of me in a pair of sweats and a warm jumper, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her skin was free of any makeup, the freckles I loved visible on her cheeks. My heart jumped up into my throat as I realized I'd never seen her like this before, I'd never seen her in a natural state, an outfit only meant to be seen by the people who won't judge her, by the people she trusts. She trusts me.

“Hi,” she said quietly, giving me a shy smile before looking down at the ground.

I stepped forward and reached out for her, tilting her head up until her eyes met with mine. She stared back at me, waiting for me to speak. I thought it through, wanting what I said to be true and honest, to convey what I meant without being cheesy and cliché. I took a deep breath. “You were never just sex for me.”

She blinked once before she nodded. “You weren't either.”

I leaned in, slowly, my forehead resting against hers. The line we had agreed not to cross was just between our lips. One kiss would take what we knew and throw it out the window. One kiss would turn what we had into something new, something different. I had to know she wanted the same things I did. She stood up on her toes and closed her eyes, bringing her lips to mine in a gentle kiss, her unspoken answer to all of my unspoken questions. I pulled her closer and melted into her touch, her body pulled flush against mine, just where I liked her to be, as close as possible.

I slowly pulled away, my left hand buried into her hair, my right hand snaked around her back, holding her tightly to my chest. “Can I stay?” I whispered, my lips brushing against hers as I spoke, hoping and praying that she wouldn't say no.

She sucked in a gasp of air and her chin trembled slightly, my body pushing even closer to hers in an attempt to comfort her. “Please don't go,” she whispered, her arms wrapping around my neck. “Don't leave me alone anymore.”

I smiled as I kissed her, kicking the door closed behind me as I walked her back to the living room. “I'm not leaving anymore. I promise, I'm all yours.”

That night, I learned what it's like to feel someone smile into your kiss, to wrap themselves around you on the couch as you share a bag of popcorn, stealing kisses during the commercials. I spent time watching her eyelids grow heavy before she finally asked if we could go to bed and I followed her up to the bedroom I'd spent hours in. I stripped down to my boxers for the second time that night and slipped into sheets I'd felt before, but this time, I wasn't leaving. I pressed my back into her chest and pressed gentle kisses to her neck as she fell asleep and I finally learned how she sleeps, after months of wondering.

She likes the bedroom to be warm. She doesn't talk in her sleep and she doesn't toss and turn all night long. She likes to cuddle, intertwining her legs with mine as she curls up into my chest. She sleeps right in the middle of the bed, as close to me as possible, one hand over my heart, the other tucked up under her chin. She's a heavy sleeper, barely roused by the alarm clock ringing on the table, and she's not an early riser, often cranky until she's had two cups of coffee. I finally learned what her dreams were about, too.

The morning after I stayed over for the first time, I swept her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. “What do you dream about?” I whispered. “Do you?”

She nodded, giving me a sleepy smile. “It's always you. I've always dreamed of you.”