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“If I told you I fought a panther to the death, would you believe me?”
“And she went just for the ass? Smart kitty.” Summer chuckles. “But I remember Winter telling me it was something way more ridiculous. Didn’t you just fall flat on a thorny bush or something?”
“It was palmetto palms and they weren’t thorns, they were spears, I needed twenty-five stitches overall.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Summer proceeds to kiss every single one of the scars. When one kiss turns into a soft bite, sleep becomes the farthest thing from my mind.
In a split second, I roll over and pin her underneath me. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry. I’ve always been an ass girl. What does it for you?”
Sexy blondes with a dirty mouth apparently.
“You, baby,” I say without thinking. “You are all I ever wanted.”
And before any of us can process what I just said, I silence her with a kiss.
Sleep never felt more overrated.
* * *
A sense of unease wakes me up. I stir in bed, my hand automatically reaching for Summer. She’s still lying next to me, so I wrap my arms around her, sighing in relief. The ease is short-lived, though, as I realize it was the fear she’d be gone again that woke me. The concept settles a little heavy on my chest, along with a memory from last night: me scooping Summer into my arms, saying, “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.” Or “You are all I ever wanted.”
What did I mean by that? And did my words give the wrong impression? Does Summer have expectations now? Do I? To be honest, I’m not looking forward to that Sunday end-mark at all. Three more nights to spend with her seems too short a time.
Summer stirs, eyes still closed. Gosh, she’s beautiful. Not that she hasn’t always been beautiful, but I don’t know… It’s as if she’s becoming more so every day. Hard to explain, but the more I stare at her, the more perfect she looks. Because she is perfect, and not just in a physical sense. Summer is fun, and a little quirky sometimes. But she’s also smart and kind and sweet. And all other women compared to her fade into the background.
Heck, Scarlett Johansson could walk past that door right now and I wouldn’t spare her a second glance.
And that, my friend, is an even scarier thought. One I shouldn’t contemplate without being properly caffeinated.
I return yesterday’s favor and make coffee. Summer’s I leave black, bringing the tiny creamer pod and a sugar packet along with her cup to leave her the choice of what to add, just like she did for me yesterday.
As I sit on the bed again, either the movement or the coffee scent wakes her. Summer stretches, hands closed in fists near her head, elbows spread wide on the pillow.
“Morning,” she says, pushing up into a sitting position. “Is that coffee I smell?”
“Yep.” I give her the cup and accessories. “I don’t know how you like it.”
She smiles, adding both the creamer and sugar. “Sweet and full of milk, thank you.”
“Only returning the favor.”
Summer takes a long sip, saying nothing. Guess we’re not discussing why she sneaked out of my bedroom while I was still sleeping yesterday and made me wake up to an empty bed and a cup of coffee. What else are we avoiding telling each other? A lot, I fear. Too much.
“Yoga will start soon. You want to go?” I ask, steering clear of more serious topics like a coward.
“Yeah, sure,” she says. “I’ll pop into my room real quick to get changed and meet you downstairs.”
“Okay.” I get up and pretend to use the bathroom to give her some privacy. When I walk out she’s in the white dress again, feet bare, the heels dangling from her fingers. The temptation to untie that bow behind her neck again and skip yoga altogether is hard to resist, but I bite the inside of my cheek and act cool. “See you in a bit?”
“Sure,” she says, blushing. My eyes must be saying what my mouth isn’t.
Summer walks toward me, stands on tiptoe, and stamps a sweet kiss on my lips. It’s an almost innocent gesture, but it has a lot of meaning for me that she didn’t just walk out of the room.
In yoga, our work has improved yet again. Our motions are perfectly coordinated, we’re more familiar with the various poses, and we move through them flawlessly. Our bodies seem to recognize each other, and as Summer stares into my eyes openly as I lift her up, the sense of belonging extends beyond the physical. The idea that I’ve let things go too far terrifies me a little.
But I don’t know how else to be with her.
