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Wyatt
1996
“I have to go to work,” Tilly said with a yawn as she sat up in her bed. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I rolled to her, grabbed her waist, and attempted to pull her back under the covers.
“No, not yet. Five more minutes,” I said, my voice still husky from sleep. I had no idea what time it was, but we’d obviously slept in. Again. I’d stayed at her place for several nights in a row, and the mornings were always bittersweet.
“Hey, those stars on the ceiling…”
Tilly ran her fingers through her curls and slipped back into bed, leaning against me. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close, smelling her hair. Even after sleeping all night, she still smelled like vanilla and coconut.
“What about them?” she asked.
“Are they the same ones Veronica gave you in high school?”
“The very same; good memory.”
“You even have them in the same formation, right?”
“Yeah. They help me fall asleep sometimes. And they always make me think of Ronnie, which is nice.”
“That is. I would have been lazy and just bought a new set.”
“I did that last year in Champaign since I had the roommate from hell and couldn’t trust her any further than I could throw her. But this place…it’s all mine, so I figured, why not?”
“Do you have trouble falling asleep a lot?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Nick at Nite…the plastic solar system above our heads. I’m just curious.”
“Sometimes…” she said, her voice trailing off. “Sometimes, I just have a lot on my mind, and it’s hard to turn off my brain. But not this week.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” I said with a chuckle.
“Isn’t it, though?” she asked, reaching back to stroke my hair. “Orgasms are good for sleep. So, I guess I have you to thank for my restful glow.”
“Well, you’re welcome,” I said with a laugh. “But I should probably apologize for my morning breath and my, uh, morning wood.”
“I don’t mind either of them,” she said, teasing me with her ass as she rubbed it gently back and forth against my dick.
“Oh, my God, what are you doing to me?” I threw my head back and closed my eyes.
“Giving you something to think about while I’m at work,” she said, stroking my arm with her fingertips. Goose bumps rose to meet her hand.
“That’s just…cruel,” I said, pulling her closer. “How long is your shift?”
She turned over to face me, placing her hand on my cheek. “I love your stubble.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh, sorry. Um, just four hours, I think. That is unless someone bails on their shift.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Kevin did it once last week, so I’m pretty sure Hannah’s really close to firing his ass. He’s the ass that threw away the Slurpee you brought.”
“Well, then, he’s dead to me. Obviously.”
