“We probably shouldn’t stay in here too long.”
Makenna stands and turns to find her seat again. She’s pulled her hair to the side, squeezing it out, and I’m treated to a brief view of her back. My eyes trace up the line of her spine until they are pulled to the right by what, at first, I think is a freckle. It’s a tiny, solid black, heart-shaped tattoo.
“That’s a bonnie wee tattoo.”
She turns and her mouth forms a perfect circle as she says, “Oh.” Then she laughs. “I forget it’s there.”
“You forget you have a tattoo?”
“Well, I wanted one, but I didn’t want to risk getting one I would come to hate, so I chose something simple that surely I would never hate, and I put it in a place I would never see just in case I came to hate it anyway.”
I laugh. “I like it.” And right now, I want to put a slow, gentle kiss on it. “And I like you’re thought process. It seems very you.”
“Indecisive, and prone to worry?” She grins, teasing me with that dimple. “Thank you for noticing.”
I laugh. “No. You’re thoughtful. It’s a good thing.”
“Sometimes I think too much.”
“I’d argue that’s better than not thinking enough.” I grin, and she matches me, playfully splashing a little water in my direction.
“Ithinkyou’ve got a point.”
She laughs at her terrible joke, and I wish I could pull her into my lap and show her how much I like her and her jokes.
I slightly regret how hard I fought Makenna on taking the couch again. I’m lying here, exhausted, feeling like I’ve been twisting and turning like a tornado for hours. I glance towardthe dim clock in the corner and realize it’s only been forty-five minutes.
This is going to be a long night. At least I can hear Makenna’s soft breathing, and occasional sleep noises. Last night, she said something in her sleep that I couldn’t make out. It only added to the ever-growing list of reasons I want to be near her.
I hear Makenna whip her covers to the side and get up. I can just make out her stumbling form in the darkness as she turns toward me, instead of going to the loo like I’d assumed.
She stops near my waist and holds out her hand. I look at it, then up at her barely open eyes.
“Come on,” her groggy voice pleads. “You’re miserable, and you’re keeping me up with all the tossing and turning.”
“I’m sorry, lass,” I whisper.
“As you should be. Do this for me.”
I place my hand in hers, and she gently tugs. I stand and follow behind her through the darkness.
“Are you not worri—”
“Uh uh,” she grunts out in response.
“But what if I’m—”
She makes a deep sleepy groan, pulls the covers back, points, and drops my hand, then heads back to the side she’d previously been burrowed into.
“Are you a little grumpy when you’re tired?”
“You use too many words in the night, Malcolm.” She’s inbed with her back to me, covers to her neck, before I move to obey her.
“Goodnight, lass,” I whisper.
She reaches blindly behind her and pats me on the ribs, then curls up again. Before long, she’s undeniably asleep, and I’m wondering if I’d stand a better chance of sleeping on the couch. Makenna’s sounds and sweet smell are happily overwhelming this close to her.
I’m lost in thought for a while. How could things work for us? Would I like Georgia? What about my medical license? What would I have to do to be able to work there? How does Makenna feel? I just need to talk with her.
