Pain in my ass: Yeah, and you don’t snore either.
Me: Wow. You must really want to sleep alone tonight?
Pain in my ass: >
Me: What’s that?
Pain in my ass: Matching jammies. So what’s it gonna be? Teddy bears or black silk?
Me: You’re crazy.
Pain in my ass: I know, and you love it. Pick one or I’m bringing both and we’ll have a little intermission costume change before act II.
Me: Intermission? What, you don’t have enough stamina to last all night?
Pain in my ass: Oh, mi Reina. You’re going to get yourself in trouble. When I finally get to have all of you, time will become just a concept. I’ll bring both and we can decide later.
Me: Big promises from such a young boy. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.
Pain in my ass: I didn’t know you liked biting. I can nibble on you, no complaints about that. See you soon, gorgeous. Wear something sexy.
Me: How can I wear anything when you have my clothes?
Pain in my ass:
Ipush the empty chip bag down into my trashcan, underneath other wrappers and discarded banana peels to make sure the evidence can’t be found. Rushing to the bathroom, I swish around some mouthwash and do a second round, just to be safe.
If Nic smelled or tasted the remnants of those damn pickle chips on my tongue, I’d never hear the end of it. Especially because he said I ate like a bird at dinner. I had salmon and squash for crying out loud. But by the time I got home, the carb craving kicked in. And since I thought our goodbye at my front door was the end of our night (where I pushed him away because he has a game tomorrow, and we can’t stay up all night) I ran to my pantry to pull out the half full bag and quickly devoured them.
Now this fool is saying that he’s planning to sleepover at my place and I’m dressed in my bum clothes and pickle chip dust all over my face and fingers.
I grab the room spray and spritz my room to clear away any smell –can they do that?-- and put everything back into its place before he can see even a hair out of place. It’s a problem, I know. My sisters called me Monica Gellar growing up. And yes, I have a closet no one is allowed to touch.
The doorbell rings and I take a few calming breathsbefore that man takes it all away. He’s got my head spinning and my feelings turning topsy turvy. The strength I thought I had a grip on so well has weakened, and I assume it will be any minute now that my heart goes too.
Getting to know him, the deeper him, has my brain checking off all the items on her “must” list.
Mustbe a good listener – check.
Mustbe compassionate – check.
Mustbe responsible and value success – check…for the most part.
Musttake my breath away – checkity check check.
Mustbe good in bed – yet to be determined.
Due to my own convictions of making him work for me, I’ve left that door closed. It’s not locked and to be honest, it’s cracked open. And the man has definitely worked. One minute he’s sweet and funny and pretending I don’t swoon when he surprises me with my favorite drink, or some flowers, or a bag full of candy that I tell him I don’t need when I so desperately do, and then next he’s walking across the field with those thick thighs, chiseled arms, licking and biting his lip while he stares directly at me before he winks.
Every inch of my body, inside and out, is on fire for him and I’ve just recently run out of water to douse it. He’s about to engulf me with no chance of surviving the aftermath.
I straighten my spine and put a pleasant smile on my face. Nothing that matches what I’m feeling inside, but says“hey. So glad you made it.”When I open the door and see him standing there, that composure elbows me in the throat and says“fuck off bitch. He’s mine!”
He stands in grey joggers –I’m pretty sure men get a handbook and a few pairs of those when they getinducted into the hot men hall of fame– a Drillers t-shirt, and a backwards cap. A large duffle bag hangs off his shoulder and in his hands he holds a garment bag and in the other…a grocery bag stuffed full of those damn chips and ice cream. It looks like a go-to emergency kit for a pregnant woman. It’s not, but I’m just saying.
“H-hi.” My voice is breathy and I tingle so much my toenails quake.
“Hi beautiful.” He smiles and leans in, planting his lips on mine with a tender kiss. “I was expecting you to open the door in just your birthday suit.”
