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“Always,” I whisper, continuing to play with his hair until he drifts off to sleep.
Then, like some crazy high school stalker, I watch him sleep, taking in every flutter of his eyelids and movement of his uber sexy mouth. A few times he whispers, but I can’t understand what he says. Before I can stop myself from going there, I wonder if he’s dreaming about me. Lord knows I’ve had plenty of nights where I dreamed of him.
After another thirty minutes, my bladder can’t take it any longer, and it’s very necessary that I get up. It’s almost physically painful to slip out of his arms and scoot undetected out of bed. He reaches for me, even in deep sleep, but doesn’t wake up. It’s easy to get lost in watching him; well, until I realize I’m about to pee my pants.
I take care of business in the bathroom and brush my teeth before heading into the kitchen. I’m surprised when I reach the coffee pot, mostly because I didn’t prepare it before bed last night–or this morning. Whatever. There’s only one person who could have done it, and that thought causes those butterflies to take flight in my stomach and warmth to spread through my body.
Smiling, I start the coffee maker and throw a slice of bread in the toaster. There’s a small pile of mail on the counter, and after tossing away all of the junk, I have three new bills to pay. My toast pops up, slightly on the burnt side to Levi’s dismay, and I grab a jar of homemade apple butter. Levi and I made a bunch last fall after someone brought in several buckets of fresh apples from their tree, into the hospital. The result was a dozen jars of cinnamony apple butter that goes perfectly on an English muffin or toast.
I make a mental note to check into getting more apples, since I’m halfway through my last jar.
Instead of heading into my room to watch Levi sleep like a completely hopeless loser, I grab my coffee and toast and head into my office. I finish off my toast while my computer fires up, and before long, I’m staring at my desktop. Emails await me, this I’m sure, but it’s the dating site app that I find my mouse hovering over. Two clicks later, and the site pops up on my screen.
Ignoring the new “matches” the system has chosen for me, I bring up the message screen. Not surprising, I find one from SimpleMan. Instantly, I recall Friday night when Levi started to play the song, his arms wrapped around me. Funny that they have the same song, right? I mean most people when they have their pick of any Skynyrd song either pick “Sweet Home Alabama” or “Freebird.”
Clicking on his message, I smile.
SimpleMan: It’s early in the morning and I’m just heading to bed. Hope you have an amazing day, Angel.
Just going to bed?
The message was sent at 6:56am.
I wonder what kind of job SimpleMan has? When we were getting to know each other, he said something about public service but he’s never really said what that is. Maybe he has a job like Levi’s where he works odd hours.
Weird, right?
Shaking off the strange feeling settling into my gut, I type out a reply.
AngelEyes: Just heading to bed? What do you do exactly? My day will consist of laundry, lunch with my family, and maybe dinner with a friend. Sleep well, Simple.
Uneasiness stirs in my stomach causing my coffee to not settle well. Heck, that could be from the drinking last night too. Shutting down the app, I bring up my email. After scanning through and deleting the junk, I send two replies to my boss regarding my current project before logging off completely and heading towards the living room.
Unable to stop myself, I gawk openly at the man sleeping in my bed. I still have this odd feeling that I can’t shake as he softly snores against my spare pillow. Why, I’m not sure, but something tells me I’m missing something. Something big–and not in the good way.
I just wish I could pinpoint what.
