Chapter Fifty-One
When I returned to our apartment, I decided to sleep through my lunch break.
I’d spent most of the days immediately after my mother’s death asleep.
There was something so tempting about snoozing through the day as much as I could, like I was bypassing my sorrow by sleeping.
Of course, grief sometimes found me in my dreams, but it always felt a little more distant. A little more manageable.
I lay down in my room for a few minutes with Marlon curled at the foot of the bed. Despite being emotionally exhausted, I was restless. Which was how I found myself traveling down the hall to Eli’s room with Marlon tucked against my chest.
I slid beneath his comforter and was enveloped in his scent—sandalwood and fresh linen. Scooting closer to the center of the bed, I nestled into his pillow, and my mind finally began to slow enough for me to drift into the quiet of sleep.
* * *
A shift on the mattress woke me gently. I blinked lazily, my vision blurring at the edges until I realized how far the sunlight had moved across the room.
My eyes fluttered shut again as a broad palm smoothed my hair off my sweaty forehead.
Eli.
The actual smell of him was so much better than the lingering scent on his bedsheets.
He slid under the covers behind me, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me snug against his chest.
“What time is it?” I dared to ask.
“Nearly six,” he whispered into the nape of my neck.
“Fuck.” I shot up—or attempted to, but Eli pulled me back down before I could get too far. “I lost a whole day,” I said. “I had an event to set up—”
“Morgan and I took care of it,” he murmured.
“What if I get fired?” I moaned.
“No one’s firing you.”
I rolled over and curled into his chest. “I played hooky.”
He curled a finger under my chin and tilted my face upward. “Your friend died. That warrants hooky. I can’t imagine Leonard wanting anything more than for you to use his death as a reason to skip out on work.”
“He was my friend,” I whispered. It was the first time I’d referred to Leonard as anything beyond a resident and I hoped that he knew it too. Hearing Eli say it only made it more true.
Somewhere behind me, my phone began to ring and I blindly fumbled around for it until I’d silenced the ringer.
“You need to answer that?” Eli asked.
I shook my head.
He held me like that for a while longer and when I woke up again, the sun had dipped below the horizon.
I watched him inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating his angular jaw and the pout of his lower lip.
His shirt was untucked and the first few buttons undone. I couldn’t resist the temptation of pressing a kiss against his throat and then his sternum.
His hand flexed against the small of my back as he pulled me closer to him and placed a sleepy kiss atop my head. My hands roamed across his shoulders and down his arms and chest.
“I want to be close to you,” I whispered. “I need to.” It was more than that, though. I wanted to burrow inside of him and be consumed by his constant warmth and protection. I wanted the comfort that could only be found in two people moving in synchronicity.
He didn’t ask any questions as he rolled us over and settled between my legs.
Our kisses were soft and unhurried. Clothing peeled away like falling leaves.
Eli touched every inch of me, taking a careful inventory, and every point of contact was a reminder that I was here and I was alive. I am here. I am alive. So is Eli.
Every insecurity I had felt so small and insignificant. I couldn’t bring myself to hide my body in the shadows. I let the light from the hallway leak in for Eli to see me. Each time instinct told me to cover myself, Eli gently pushed my hands away and addressed that part of
my body with his mouth. His lips absorbed every discomfort and hesitation.
“You deserve to be seen,” he whispered as he slid into me, slowly stretching me. “Let me see you.”
I nodded, tears brimming, and hooked my arms under his. My nails scraped across his back as he thrust deeply and I let out a soft cry in response.
He took his time, not letting me disassociate from this moment. His gaze held mine as he swept my hair back and traced a map of my face, his eyes following every line. The pad of his thumb dragged down the center of my lips, opening my mouth as a prelude to a stream of velvety, languid kisses.
When the torture of going slowly became too much, he guided me onto my stomach and pulled my hips up to meet his.
He slipped a hand between my legs, his fingers stirring against me.
My orgasm curled like a fist in my belly, tensing every muscle in my body before a violent release sent a tingling numbness down to the tips of my toes.
“That’s it,” he said, his body blanketing mine now so that his breath was hot on my neck. “I love watching you unravel. I love . . . I love . . .” With three more short and quick thrusts, he found his release.
We both hissed as he pulled out of me, feeling the immediate absence of the other.
He murmured words like beautiful and perfect and mine until we both fell asleep, our spent bodies intertwined.
EXT. PARK—EVENING
There is a strong breeze. Summer is disappearing. They sit on swings. He faces forward. She faces him.
POPPY
Kissing you was a mistake. I’m sorry.
ARLO
What if it wasn’t? What if I love you?
POPPY
I never asked you to.
Poppy stands and walks away.
POPPY (V.O.)
Waiting for him to decide if he loved me hurt more than leaving ever could.
April 17, 2020
Vera S.
Is this angst earned?