Chapter 13 Marco
Marco
When my alarm goes off the next day, the soft buzzing of my smartwatch waking me up, I roll over and look at Brin, just like I do most mornings.
Last night’s kissing debacle definitely infused some weirdness between us, but it was nothing a little space couldn’t fix. Brin went to work and I ordered kung pao chicken and watched an action movie.
I’m not a total monster who would take advantage of his roommate. I didn’t irreparably damage my friendship with Brin, even if I lay awake in bed thinking about that kiss—the way her lips felt on mine, how she opened up to me, her smell . . .
And the fact that she’d never had sex before.
I dreamed about kissing her more and exploring how far she’d want to go.
And woke up hard.
Totally fine. We’ll get over it, rack up a bunch of points today, and be right back to normal.
Despite the chill in the air, her covers are halfway down her body, exposing her white tank top and peaked nipples.
God, why am I always noticing her nipples?
There’s a slip of skin showing above the waistband of her boxers that she wears to bed—she pulled out her holiday ones the day after Thanksgiving, and today’s have candy canes and mistletoe on a bright green background.
Her hair is a red halo around her face, and one arm is thrown over her head while she breathes softly.
Most mornings when I wake up before her, I tiptoe around, picking up the clothes I set out the night before and sneaking into the bathroom down the hall for my daily quiet jerk-off ritual before I get ready for the day.
But today I sit up, putting my feet on the floor and noisily stretching, overexaggerating my yawn.
I’ve never had to wake her up before. We both have our own schedules, our own independence, so this is new territory.
Brin stirs but doesn’t wake.
I crouch down to eye level, the cotton of my sweatpants straining over my thighs. “Brin,” I say softly. “It’s six. Time to wake up.”
I’ve never been this close to a sleeping Brin.
She sighs and turns to her side, curling up and pushing her face into the pillow.
“Brin.” I’m louder now, and I run my hand up her arm to her shoulder and cup it.
She grunts.
I shake her gently.
“Naaa . . . whaaa . . . fuuuu?” One arm reaches out from under the pillow and lightly pops me in the face. I sputter while she feels around, as if looking for a snooze button. Not finding one, her hand settles on my shoulder, curling around the bare muscle and pulling me closer.
She finally turns her face toward me and I see one sky-blue eye crack open and blink at me. I tilt my head, matching the angle of hers.
“Marco?” Her hand squeezes and then drops, fingers trailing over my pec and through the hair on my chest. She makes a soft little noise, a hum, and something curls inside my gut.
Her fingers trace lower, and lower . . .
Her eyes are closed again, and her hand drops to dangle off the bed.
I sigh, and then I grab her hand and shake it back and forth. “Brin!”
Her eyes fly open and I drop her hand. She blinks at me for a moment before turning onto her back to stretch. Cool air floods in where her touch had been and I instantly miss it. But when she’s done stretching, she turns to face me again. “What time is it?” She blinks.
“Six,” I repeat. “Remember, we’re watching the sun rise for the scavenger hunt?”
She hums again and closes her eyes.
“Nope, come on, get up.” I grab her closest hand and tug harder. “If we can get out the door within the next ten minutes I’ll have time to make you an espresso at William’s place.”
Brin doesn’t answer, but rolls toward me and off the bed, barely giving me time to get out of the way before she stands, toe to toe with me. She stretches again and yawns so wide I can count her back teeth before she slumps against me, face-first, into my chest.
I laugh, causing her head to bounce, and lightly wrap my arms around her.
This is new. This is weird. This is causing my heart rate to sky rocket because she’s in that skimpy little tank top and a pair of boxers with the waistband rolled up and I’m only wearing my worn gray sweatpants and I can feel her hard nipples and her hot breath and . . .
Brin straightens, blinks sluggishly, and walks toward the door like a zombie. I hear her trundle down the hall and into the bathroom, leaving me standing in the middle of the bedroom with a growing hard-on and an ache in my chest.
I shake it off and get dressed while Brin’s in the bathroom. I knock after five minutes. “Brin. Five more minutes for the espresso offer.”
Ten seconds later there’s a flush, then I hear the water running. The door opens and I switch places with a still-groggy Brin. A few minutes later I’m by the door, waiting, while she changes clothes with the door cracked open while I try not to look.
With seven seconds left to spare, Brin comes out in jeans and a cranberry-red sweater.
I hold out my hand and she grabs it, using it for balance while she tugs on her waterproof sheep-skin-lined boots that I got her last year for Christmas.
I retrieve her knit beanie which she tugs over her head, covering the bun she’d pulled her hair back into.
I wrestle her into a jacket and lead the way down the stairs.
The whole trip, Brin is half-asleep. I take us to the right subway, hook my arms around her when she sways on the ride, and when she gets cold despite the layers she’s wearing, I give her my coat.
She burrows into it, her closed eyes the only thing visible while I brace against the motion of the train.
When we get to William’s place, I wave to the security guard and Brin and I ride the elevator up. I park her out on the balcony while I make that espresso I promised her with William’s fancy machine.
When I get back outside, Brin is asleep on the lounge chair. That’s fine, the coffee is too hot anyway. I set our coffees down on the wicker table next to her and grab a blanket from inside and cover her up.
When I sit down on the other side of the lounger, Brin shifts slightly and I look at her.
“Are you awake?” I whisper. “There’s coffee.”
Instead of rolling away from me for the coffee, she rolls toward me. Her eyes blink open and she does that adorable lip-smacking thing again. “Wake me up . . . for the picture.” And then she buries her face in my shoulder.
“Hang on,” I say, and try to extract my arm from underneath her. She grunts in annoyance. “Hang on.”
Finally my arm is free and I put it around her. Brin sighs in happiness and wiggles closer.
That little sigh echoes inside me. I’ve got a beautiful woman snuggling up against me.
My boss is gone for the week, my coffee is within reach, and the sky is a brilliant golden-red hue.
There are clouds out, enough to keep it interesting without blocking the view, although behind us, low gray clouds loom.
I take my phone out and, even though Brin’s not awake and the sun’s not up yet, I take a few pictures. I want to remember this. A rare good moment when the holidays are usually shit.
The sunrise continues to bloom and when I finally catch the first dot of molten gold from the sun, I shake Brin awake.
“Whu—?”
“It’s time. We gotta get up.”
Brin rolls and stretches and then I pull her to her feet.
We both turn our backs to the railing and I hold the phone out and angle it to get both our faces and the sunrise.
Some of her hair has come loose from the beanie and the wind whips it around and she shivers.
I pull her tighter and then click, it’s done.
“All right, another three points in the book,” I say. I navigate to the private team channel for us to upload our proof of points and send the picture. Then I update our spreadsheet. We have twenty-six points now.
“Hmmmm . . .” When I look down at Brin, she’s horizontal on the lounger again.
“Hey,” I say, reaching down to grab her foot and shake it. “Your coffee is getting cold.”
“Don’t want coffee,” she mumbles. “More sleep.”
“You’ll sleep better if we get you home to your own bed. Then you can sleep all you want and I’ll work on more tasks. Like . . .” I think for a minute. “Baking cookies.”
That gets me an eye blinking open and an exaggerated pout. “But I wanted to bake Christmas cookies. You don’t even like Christmas cookies.”
“I like two more points for our team. And then you can eat cookies when you wake up.”
Her eyes close again, either not sold on the idea of eating my cookies or falling victim to the comfortable lounger.
“Oh no you don’t.” I grab her ankle and lift her foot up.
Brin sits up in protest, instantly waking up a bit more. “Whoa. No need to do anything hasty.”
I wrestle her boot off. “Marco,” she warns. “Don’t do it.” She tries to tug her foot away but my grip is too solid.
“I’m sitting here thinking, what would wake you up even more than coffee? After all, coffee has this horrible flaw that you have to actually transport it to your mouth.” Her boot comes off and I have a free hand to mime drinking coffee. “That sounds too hard for you first thing in the morning.”
“Marco!”
I hook that foot under my arm, facing away from her, and pinch the toe of her sock. “But this seems like an effective method.” With a smooth tug, the sock comes off.
Brin thrashes now in earnest, already laughing even though I haven’t touched her foot yet. I only accidentally discovered that the soles of her feet are super ticklish a few months ago.
“Marco, I’m awake, I’m awake!”
I trace the lightest touch of my finger down the center of her sole and she convulses and squeals.
Next thing I know, she’s tackling me from behind, trying to grab my wrists and pry me away with one hand while her other hand covers my eyes.
She pokes me in my right eye, but it’s a small price to pay.
Her laughter is right in my ear, loud and ringing and infectious.
“All right, all right,” I say, and let go of her foot, shifting to grip her thighs through her pajama pants before standing up with her on my back like a monkey.
She stops wiggling, and instead rests her head on my shoulder.
I bend over, careful not to drop her, and pick up her sock and shoe.
I leave the coffee mugs . . . I’ll clean them up before William gets home.
“Ew, you’re touching my dirty sock.”
“You put it on like an hour ago, how dirty can it be?” I huff.
“A dirty sock is a dirty sock,” she says with gravitas, and then hums and nuzzles into my neck.
I’m not used to feeling this kind of happiness, especially over the holidays.
The absence of my family is all too stark sometimes.
But with Brin on my back, her sweet, warm breath on my cheek, my heart kicks inside my chest as I walk us to the sliding glass door and into the living room.
It kicks so hard and so loud in my ears that it takes me a moment to realize we’re not alone.