“Was it about me?”
“No,” I admitted.
It hardly ever was. Kason and every other man I dated was scarcely on my mind when out of my sight. Though he was more promising than the other bachelors, it simply wasn’t a privilege I had to give.
“Just break my heart, then, huh?”
He pushed my hair behind my neck and planted a kiss. I shuddered from his touch, but was simultaneously reminded of the task at hand. My body slipped from his grasp. I opened the fridge and pushed the rim against the dispenser.
Filtered water flowed inside the glass. Once half-full, I closed the fridge and placed it at my lips. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that my audience had grown by at least one. Kason’s eyes were on me as if he hadn’t just been inside me.
I allowed his eyes to wander as I cleared the glass. Sip by sip.
“You’re unreal, you know.”
I lowered the glass with a nod of my head. Hydration was complete.
“Mmhm.”
I wasn’t hearing anything my mother or father or brother or sisters or lovers hadn’t told me before.
“I don’t think there’s an hour of the day that I couldn’t have you for dessert.”
I could think of so many, especially those that didn’t align with his schedule.
“The sheets–” I questioned, placing the glass in the sink.
“New sheets have been put on the bed.”
Kason moved swiftly after my departure. His mission to redress the bed became my mission to rehydrate my body.
“You’re quick.”
“When it counts,” he teased, chopping away at the distance between us.
When his body was next to mine again, he lifted a hand to my chin. Our lips touched.
“I’ve enjoyed you tonight. All night.”
“I’m tired,” I admitted.
My shoulders lowered as the words left my mouth.
“Then let’s get to bed.”
I waited beside the counter, watching as Kason used the glass I had just lowered into the sink. He filled it with water and tossed his head back. Within seconds, the glass was nearly empty. He dropped it inside the sink gently and took me by the hand.
Our bodies moved slowly. Kason matched my stride. His long, brown legs only moved when mine did. Secretly, I marveled at their beauty. Hair was plentiful. However, there was hardly any evidence to prove he had an active childhood or a park near his home. His skin was flawless underneath the strands.
“After you,” he cleared his throat as he lifted the comforter for me to climb underneath.
I cozied up against the pillow on the side of the bed I frequented. Though Kason and I were a couple, I still hadn’t claimed it as my own.
I often pondered the relevance of my undiagnosed, undertreated trauma concerning my belief that all things were temporary. Except family. Family was forever, in every lifetime. But not a side of my lover’s bed. Or a space in his closet that I refused to occupy. Or whatever we had between each other. Or my happiness–forged or real.
Nothing felt forever.
Nothing.
