21 Sloane
January 2018
I turn over on my side and, with my eyes, trace Reese’s profile. He sleeps on his back almost exclusively, which only contributes to his snoring. I watch him sleep and I recount the past several months we’ve spent together.
Reese was a breath of fresh air when I needed it the most. I remember thinking as early as our first date: This is what it should feel like. So I clung to it; I intertwined my hand with his and never let it go.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked after he insisted on picking me up before our first official date.
I say official because I slept with him the night we reconnected at Gem. I didn’t think it would go anywhere, and I wanted to get my first post-Ethan hookup over with. I definitely didn’t expect him to ask me to be his girlfriend two weeks later. It felt a little crazy and rushed. Lauren even thought so, but it also felt right.
“I can’t tell you that,” he bantered. “What I can tell you is that I know you’ll love it.”
“Not to be that girl, but how do you know? You’ve known me all of two weeks,” I argued.
“Well, if you want to get technical… I’ve actually known you for about six months. Just trust me on this one.”
He insisted on walking to dinner, and we stopped at a cocktail bar on the way. It was one of those fancy no-menu places where they ask what kind of alcohol you enjoy and make you a drink based on your answer.
“What kind of food are we having at least?”
“Italian.” His mouth curled into a smile.
As if I could read his mind, I immediately knew his thought process behind the choice. After Gem we went back to his place, had a glass of wine, and talked for over an hour. About anything and everything, including family. Which was a topic that was hardly discussed in my conversations with Ethan. I shared with him that one of my favorite things about my dad is his penne with vodka sauce recipe. Right before the divorce, a few months before I was due at college, he taught me how to make it. The recipe is stored in my notes app for safekeeping, and I make it when I miss him. Reese not only wanted to try it, but also insisted I teach him how to make it one day too. Chicken parm, sub vodka sauce, was his “secret order” at Italian places.
“If they have both on the menu, most places will do it. Especially if I flirt with the server a little bit,” he said.
I love that he listens to me, like really listens, and puts thought and effort into every interaction—no matter how big or small.
On our third date, he took me to a Yankee game because he knew they were my dad’s favorite team. Unbeknownst to Reese, it was my second game. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d been once before, and I was ready to make new memories there that didn’t involve Ethan.
“Our seats are right on the first base line,” Reese said as we waited in line for hot dogs—which were the best in the city according to him. “Nothing hits like a ballpark dog.”
At first, I was scared to go to the game. I worried I’d think about Ethan the entire time, that I’d miss him too much. Maybe even send him a text that I’d regret the next day. But Reese proved me wrong. I thought of Ethan only once, when I passed the section we sat in, and the vivid memories of anger, confusion, and embarrassment washed over me. Ethan kept me at arm’s length like he was hiding me, and Reese puts me on his shoulders like he’s parading me around town. The two feelings could not be more different.
Reese rolls over like he knows I’m thinking about him and pulls me in. My face is pressed up against his bare chest, and I inhale, taking in the exact scent of him—subtle notes of pine just lingering from the cologne I bought him. His soft hands glide up and down my back; his gentleness always has a way of calming me down. I take inventory of every part of him because I never want to forget it.
“Baby,” he whispers. “Why are you awake?”
“I can’t sleep.” I’ll never tell him that it’s his snoring that wakes me up most nights.
“What can I do?” He opens his eyes.
“How are you real?”
He chuckles. “What are you talking about?”
“I couldn’t sleep, and you were just lying here, so peacefully, and I thought about our last few months together. They don’t feel real sometimes. I’ve waited my whole life for a guy like you,” I spoke into his chest.
“Better get used to it, because I’m not going anywhere.” He presses his lips to my forehead, and then they find their way down to mine.
It took some getting used to, sex with Reese versus sex with Ethan, like the relationships were complete opposite experiences. Ethan and I had this unexplainable chemistry, like our bodies were magnets and they’d attract each other even in the most crowded of rooms. With Reese, it took some getting used to. I had to teach him what I liked—slow down, speed up, keep going, don’t stop.
Reese was gentle in everything he did. He’d kiss me for hours until I’d tell him what I wanted next, much like he was doing now.
“Take my clothes off,” I whisper.
“If I do, I won’t be able to go back to sleep.”
“So don’t. Sleep is overrated anyway.”
He follows my directions and pulls the baggy T-shirt over my head. I graze my hands up and down his neck, then into his hair as his disappear in mine. Eventually making their way down to my underwear, his fingers find their way inside of me, and I moan into his mouth.
“Sloane, you’re so—” He doesn’t even have to finish that sentence.
“I want you, Reese.”
“And I never want you to stop saying that. Tell me again, baby.”
He presses into me, and I feel my eyes roll back into my head. When I finally open them, the sun is starting to rise, the light peeking its way through his blinds and onto his duvet cover.
His groans intensify until he’s a puddle beside me.
“I want to wake up like this every morning.”
“Me too,” I reply, planting a gentle kiss on his lips.