Mateo
HOLY SHIT. Brandon and I are already planning a menu for the Queer Triple Date Deluxe dinner we’re going to throw.
We’ll make pasta!
We’ll get cannolis!
We’ll crack the emergency champagne!!!
I laugh and send:
What’s the emergency?
Avery
@Mateo setting the apartment on fire if he tries to cook
Mateo
Derick returns; he’s a vision in navy basketball shorts.Onlynavy basketball shorts.
I set my phone down on the charger. All too quickly, he crawls under the covers. I miss the sight of his solid torso already. The heft of him ripples my side of the mattress. Just the sound of his head hitting the pillow next to mine causes my whole body to unwind.
I could get used to this—sleeping next to mysomeone.
It’s early, so no labels, but if tonight was any indication, this isn’t a cool-for-the-summer situation. This is something so much more, and I can’t wait to explore what it could be.
I reach over to turn out my light, and he does the same. The sheer curtains make it impossible for the room to go completely dark, so it feels like we’re in a movie, subsumed in the illusion of bedtime, so the audience at home can still see our faces.
I pinch myself for real, under the sheets since he can’t see, to remind myself this isn’t a movie. This. Is. Happening.
Flopping over in an offer, Derick’s right hand lands smack in the center of the bed. I pull my own hand, the one I just pinched myself with, out from beneath the white comforter and place it rightfully in his.
Fingers interlocked, he brings the back of my hand up to his face, and using the tip of his nose, he draws a languid heart over my knuckle before pressing a kiss into the center like he’s an artist signing his work.
“Good night, Wren,” he whispers, his breath ghosting up my forearm.
“Good night, Derick.”
First names shouldn’t be allowed to sound this intimate.
The air conditioner turns over. I lie there and listen as his breathing goes deep, becomes measured. There’s a beat to it that intermingles with the swirling woodwinds warming up in my mind. He drifts into sleep, letting out little soft snores that underscore the luscious flutes.
I’m no longer concerned about what he might hear if I talk in my sleep again. The music only I can hear lets me know I’m right where I’m meant to be. I flip onto my back and smile up at the ceiling, thanking whatever lucky star sent me here tonight because this,thisis what I’ve been waiting for.
***
My eyes flutter open when it’s still dark out. Derick’s sitting on the edge of the bed putting on a pair of sneakers.
Panic overtakes me. Maybe I should’ve been concerned. I must’ve divulged something scandalous in my sleep that scared him off. Is he reconsidering us?
I relax only when he glimpses over at me and smiles with so much warmth he might as well be the Human Torch.
Sleep still holding on to me, I whisper, “Where are you going?” I check the clock. “It’s barely 5:00 a.m.”
“I woke up and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I’m too wired.” That makes me feel fuzzy inside and out. “You’re not recording until noon, so sleep as long as you want. I figured I’d go for a sunrise run in Central Park.” When he stands, I notice he’s sporting skintight, black spandex leggings. His calves remind me of the elf tights from the Christmas charity event that somehow feels like just yesterday and a lifetime ago. “I’ve always wanted to.”
“How much longer till sunrise? I’ll come with you.” I’m awake now and throwing my legs off the side of the bed, even though they feel woozy beneath me from all that alcohol. “It’ll be good for me to sweat out these toxins.”
