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I don’t want this moment to end but soon, my eyelids grow heavy from exhaustion. I close them just a moment, listening to Archie’s soothing voice, relishing the small circles he’s trailing on my shoulders…
Next thing I know, I’m blinking awake and awash in sunlight.
Did I fall asleep on him? I must have. Archie’s hands on me were so relaxing, his voice so soothing.
Now, in the cold light of day, we’ve switched positions and are spooning. I remove his arm from around my waist and push up on an elbow, careful not to wake him.
I study his face. He looks serene, and, honestly, more beautiful than any man has a right to be. To have cheekbones like that, and with no contouring, it’s not fair. And his best feature, those piercing blue eyes, is not even on display yet.
My heart beats to a weird thump, thump, thump frenzied tempo inside my chest. Somehow, sleeping together withoutsleepingtogether feels more intimate and dangerous than just having sex. What am I doing here? It hasn’t been two days, and I’m already sort of relying on this man to be my rock. The person I confide in before going to sleep. A lumberjack in flannel armor who listens and doesn’t judge, who manages to make me laugh even when I’m feeling overwhelmed by my mistakes. The man who gives me feet and back rubs when I’m stressed. But he’s also the one who has told me in no uncertain terms that he’s not interested in being anyone’s rock, at least not in the long run.
The thought sends me into a slight panic. And when I panic, I run. Careful not to disturb him, I slip out of bed. But to sneak out of the room and let him wake up alone seems too much of a dick move. Instead, I move into the kitchenette and make a pot of coffee. I try to be as quiet as I can so that when I fill two paper cups and place one on the nightstand on Archie’s side, he’s still sleeping like a baby. I’ve no idea how he likes his coffee. Black? With milk? Full of sugar? The other day at breakfast, he was drinking a cappuccino, so maybe not black. I add a creamer pod and two bags of sugar next to the cup.
As a final touch, I find a notebook of hotel stationery and a pen and scribble a simple message:
See you at yoga, x
Once I’m back in my room, I call his. A coward’s wakeup call, but necessary since I don’t want Archie’s coffee to go cold, or for him to sleep in and miss yoga. We’re not going to see much of each other today. Which, in theory, is a good thing. No matter how much I’m dreading it, it’s time I faced the world on my own two feet. But I still want to wish him good morning, in person. And yoga class is the perfect setting. With people around, we won’t be able to discuss why we spent the nightjustcuddling, or why I fled his room this morning.
I let the line connect for three rings and hang up. That ought to do it.
11
ARCHIE
Stop. Make it stop.
A shrill noise is drilling a hole into my sleeping skull. I turn my face to the right, following the source of the earsplitting sound, and blink awake. My eyes focus on the now-silent room phone accusingly. Was it ringing or did I dream it?
It must’ve been ringing. Why else would I be awake? And why do I feel cold? I swear I spent the night wrapped in warmth and softness.
Next to the phone, I notice a paper coffee cup that I’m sure wasn’t there last night. Underneath it, a note.
I touch my hand to the paper cup, still warm, and turn my head to the other side of the bed, empty. I feel the mattress. Also still warm.
I read the note:
See you at yoga, x
Ah.
What should I make of this? I wonder what made Summer freak out and leave before I woke up. But I also smile to myself realizing she’s too nice to just sneak out, and made me coffee first.
Women.
The man who understands them is a lucky bastard, if the dude exists.
Conscious I’m not him and probably never will be, I shrug and sit up in bed, leaning against the headboard while sipping the coffee.
Mmm. Not too bad considering it came from a hotel kitchenette. Still, I grab the creamer Summer left on my nightstand, and mix it in. I close the plastic lid and take another sip; much better. Again, I smile to myself that she went to the trouble of leaving me the creamer and sugar. I still would’ve preferred abonjourkiss, but as morning after cop-outs go, this isn’t half bad.
Coffee over, I take a quick shower and change into yoga clothes, arriving at the class just as it is about to start.
Summer turns and spots me walking from the hotel to the outdoor cabana, her facial expression quickly switching from worried, to relieved, to a warm smile.
And I’m struck a little dumb in my tracks.
Thatis a smile that could launch a thousand ships, you know, if we were living in ancient Greece or something. A smile that could light up a whole town, and it’s just for me.
