Status: drabble || complete
I'm Hers
ONE
6:35AM
Right on time, you open my bedroom door, the golds and reds and pinks of the sunrise trying desperately to come through my windows which are covered by thin white blinds. Sneaking a glance at me, laying on my stomach hardly stirring at the noise you’ve made walking up the stairs and across the creaky landing, you take off your work clothes, leaving them in a neat pile beside my wardrobe door. You climb over me (I’ve once again slept on the side of the bed that isn’t pressed up against the wall, much to your disdain) and settle down, taking off your bra and tucking it in the gap between the wall and mattress. You slip an arm around me as I stretch and press my back against you, rolling onto my side. You kiss my shoulder, and my neck, and my cheek, murmuring I love you into my skin. You fall asleep rubbing my back, long languid strokes across my smooth (chlorine damaged) skin.
8:00AM
My phone, tucked under my pillow, goes off. Bzz bzz bzz. Bzz bzz bzz. The vibrations jolt me awake, and I accidentally throw your arm off me with the jerky movement. You’ve rolled away by the time I turn off the alarm, nestling your head into a pillow and half-reaching for another to cover yourself with. I ease myself off the bed, cautious not to press down on the squeaky part of the bed frame, and throw on my clothes. Five minutes later and I’m out the door for work, but not before I lean back over the bed, smooth a few strands of your long hair out of your face and press a kiss to your temple, I love you whispered into your skin.
11:00PM
ELEVEN MONTHS EARLIER
We’ve been laughing all night, our fifth date (who knew that online dating would actually work?). We’re at a bar and I’m spinning you on the dance floor, then you’re spinning me. I’m trying to ignore your insistence to move off of the dance floor and to a booth; I know the conversation you want to have. I’m in denial, you’re the best woman I’ve met. I give you a firm kiss, and finally concede. We sit down next to each other, and I turn my head towards you, my arm going around your shoulders. I soak you in, your long blonde hair, green, blue and ochre eyes, gentle smile and comforting presence. I know what you’re going to say, we’re no good for each other, it’s not going to work. It’s not without reason; our crazy work schedules mean we’d hardly see each other.
But I’ve never been one to listen to reason.
Right on time, you open my bedroom door, the golds and reds and pinks of the sunrise trying desperately to come through my windows which are covered by thin white blinds. Sneaking a glance at me, laying on my stomach hardly stirring at the noise you’ve made walking up the stairs and across the creaky landing, you take off your work clothes, leaving them in a neat pile beside my wardrobe door. You climb over me (I’ve once again slept on the side of the bed that isn’t pressed up against the wall, much to your disdain) and settle down, taking off your bra and tucking it in the gap between the wall and mattress. You slip an arm around me as I stretch and press my back against you, rolling onto my side. You kiss my shoulder, and my neck, and my cheek, murmuring I love you into my skin. You fall asleep rubbing my back, long languid strokes across my smooth (chlorine damaged) skin.
8:00AM
My phone, tucked under my pillow, goes off. Bzz bzz bzz. Bzz bzz bzz. The vibrations jolt me awake, and I accidentally throw your arm off me with the jerky movement. You’ve rolled away by the time I turn off the alarm, nestling your head into a pillow and half-reaching for another to cover yourself with. I ease myself off the bed, cautious not to press down on the squeaky part of the bed frame, and throw on my clothes. Five minutes later and I’m out the door for work, but not before I lean back over the bed, smooth a few strands of your long hair out of your face and press a kiss to your temple, I love you whispered into your skin.
11:00PM
ELEVEN MONTHS EARLIER
We’ve been laughing all night, our fifth date (who knew that online dating would actually work?). We’re at a bar and I’m spinning you on the dance floor, then you’re spinning me. I’m trying to ignore your insistence to move off of the dance floor and to a booth; I know the conversation you want to have. I’m in denial, you’re the best woman I’ve met. I give you a firm kiss, and finally concede. We sit down next to each other, and I turn my head towards you, my arm going around your shoulders. I soak you in, your long blonde hair, green, blue and ochre eyes, gentle smile and comforting presence. I know what you’re going to say, we’re no good for each other, it’s not going to work. It’s not without reason; our crazy work schedules mean we’d hardly see each other.
But I’ve never been one to listen to reason.