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Alex is my sun.
Touching him feels like fire, and I know I’m going to get burned, but I have to anyway.
Looking at him blinds me with how beautiful and sexy he is, but I have to anyway.
Tucked against him, I trace his DON’T tattoo right under where my face rests, and I think about why he has it.
He thinks he needs to be reminded not to turn out like his dad, but he doesn’t see that he never will.
Alex would never choose liquor over those he loves, and he’d never treat them like shit for years just because he could.
Alex wants more out of life.
He’d never settle for mediocre and being a leech like his dad. He has dreams, and places to go and see. It hurts me that he thinks he needs reminding every day not to be someone I know he would, and could not, ever become.
“I can feel you thinking, gorgeous,” Alex mumbles, still half asleep.
Peeking up at him, I see my favorite emeralds smiling down at me – the little gold flecks shining bright in the morning sun.
“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”
“Nothing.” I smile, kissing his tattoo, tracing the letters with my lips.
I don’t want him to hear what I’m thinking. I’d rather show him that I know he’s a good man.
With him, I know my actions are what will convince him, just like his actions are what will convince me.
“I have to get up for work,” I tell him, but I make no move to actually do so.
“You sure?” He chuckles, his chest shaking lightly.
“Mhmm. In a minute, though.”
His fingers play with my hair, and a low hum of satisfaction comes from within me.
“Do you know what time it is?” I ask lazily.
“Um”–I feel him turn his head turn to the side–“it’s 8.”
Sighing, I peel myself away from him and sit up. I have to be there at nine, so I need to get a move on.
“I have to go then. I didn’t bring a bag with me,” I tell him, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I need to go home for a change of scrubs.
“Next time,” he says, and I look back at him with a smile.
“I’ll remember.”
“I plan on keeping you busy until you have to leave every morning, so it’d be in your best interest to always have a bag with you.”
“What if you’re with me at my place?” I counter.
“Then I’ll have a bag.”
“Good.” I nod.
Turning back around, I smile to myself, glad he can’t see how giddy I am.
Standing, I look around for my clothes, and see my pink scrubs from yesterday strewn all around the kitchen floor.
