Wednesday, May 12, 2010

7. The Morning After

I woke up to an alarm that wasn't mine. I didn't open my eyes because I was in the middle of a dream I didn't want to end. I tried to force myself back to sleep. Go back to the dream about the beautiful British boy, go back to that. My cheek was warm, so warm. There was another sound aside from the unfamiliar alarm. Wait, was that two sounds and an alarm? As I tried to concentrate on the sounds, I knew I was slipping farther and farther away from that blissful dream. Thump thump, thump thump. One of the sounds was a heartbeat. Was it my heart beat? Was I having a heart attack?? I felt for numbness or tingling in my arms. My right arm was warm, just as warm as my cheek. Is that one of the side effects? I couldn't remember.
The other sound was just as steady, but slower than the heartbeat. it was deep and relaxed. Heavy breathing. Was this one of those out-of-body experiences? Was I hearing my heart beat and listening to the rhythm of my breathing in the middle of a heart attack? Was that alarm a siren?
I opened one eye. All I saw was my right hand and arm resting on something smooth and tan, rising and falling. Breathing. I lifted my arm and felt the warmth immediately cool. Not a heart attack. I was alive--very alive. And so was the body I was curled up against. Warm, so warm. Cayden.
I lifted my head off his chest. My cheek immediately welcoming the fresh air. Did I sleep like that all night? Laying on his chest? Poor guy! I'm sure his left arm was completely numb. Oh god. Did I snore? Did I drool on him? I inspected his chest for dried drool spots, wondering if I could discretely rub them off before he woke up. No signs of droolage. An audible sigh of relief escaped my lips. His breathing changed. His hand came up and landed where my hand had been. It searched around for a minute, and I watched it. It was looking for my hand. I put my hand down on top of his and he was still again.
Did he not hear that alarm? It was driving me crazy. It must be his phone alarm. He told me he set it for 9 am so he could get back to his hotel in Manhattan, pack up, and checkout on time. Maybe if I can find a way to turn off his alarm without him knowing, he'll stay with me right here all day and miss his flight back to London. I looked up at his face to gauge his probability of waking up. No movement behind his eyelids, that's a plus. His dark brown hair was sticking up here and there. I love boys with bed head. They look all rumpled and cute, and there's just something adorable about it. I lifted my hand off his and reached for his iPhone on the dresser next to the bed. He stirred. I froze.
He opened his eyes in a squint. I was still frozen above him, mid reach.
"Your alarm is going off," I explained, because I knew he was in the middle of an I-just-woke-up confusion.
"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. " He reached over and silenced it. Finally.
He set his phone next to his pillow and looked up at me from his back. I was on my side now, elbow propped under my head.
"Well good morning, Whitney. Did you sleep well?"
"Considering we just went to sleep two hours ago, yes, it was a satisfying nap."
He turned to his side, facing me. The comforter slipped down and I could see he was still wearing his boxer briefs, while I was still in my bra and panties. He reached over and rested his hand on my hip. I didn't even have to suck it in. I just feel thinner in the morning. My mind started wandering back to last night. His hands, his mouth-
"I don't want to go." His voice interrupted my thoughts.
"What?" I didn't think I heard him right.
"I don't want to leave. I want to stay in bed with you."
"Then do it." I just couldn't get over that accent.
I pushed him back onto his back and curled up where I had been before. My cheek refamiliarizing itself with the warmth. I lifted up to see if there was some kind of weird indentation on his chest I hadn't noticed before, because it just seemed like my cheek fit there perfectly. Nothing unusual. Good thing, because I once couldn't date a guy because he had carney hands, so a sunken chest the size of my head might have been a dealbreaker. I settled back into my invisible nook and smiled. I felt him reach for his phone and hit a few buttons. Then he wrapped his arm around me, holding me even closer to his warm body.
That sound. That damn sound again. Hadn't it only been 5 minutes? His hand slowly let go of mine and slowly and heavily reached for his phone again.
"What time is it?" I asked from my head cave. It was like his whole body was a tempurpedic mattress, made especially for me.
Nooooooooo! I knew he had to check out of his hotel by noon. It would take him at least 25 minutes to get back to his hotel in Manhattan, and he still needed to pack.
"I really don't want to go. I could stay in bed with you all day, but I have to catch my flight," I didn't want to pull away from him. This couldn't end. I didn't want this to end.
He kissed me on my forehead. Smart man. Some guys ignore the whole morning-breath situation and go right for the mouth. I shudder at the thought of it. I knew that was my cue to peel myself off of him. I lifted my head and kissed his shoulder. I wanted to kiss every square inch of him, because I thought this would be my last chance, but I resisted.
"I'm sure your friends are wondering where you are anyway." I pulled myself away.
He didn't move.
"Go! Before your friends think I abducted you!" I gave him a playful kick to get him moving. I couldn't have him lying there much longer without crawling back on top.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and forced himself into the seated position. He stood up and made his way to our combined pile. I watched him move. I would like to track down Mr. Calvin Klein and thank him for a job well done on those boxer briefs. I reached for my cell phone and hit the side button, switching it to camera mode instantly. I just had to capture this moment. Chances are, he'll go back to London and I'll never hear from him or see him again. So I just had to get this one picture of that amazing body. Point. Aim. Click.
He looked up as he was pulling his jeans on.
"Did you just take a picture of me?"
I forgot to silence my phone before snapping the photo, so he heard the very obvious digital click sound.
"Yeah, just so I know this really happened." OK, it's official, he probably thought I was bat-shit crazy. I expected him to mace me and run out of there as fast as possible, abandoning his shirt, phone, and wallet.
He laughed a genuine laugh.
He looked thoroughly amused, and he wasn't running.
Something's gotta be wrong with this guy.
He finished getting dressed and then came back to the side of the bed.
"Well, it's been amazing meeting you, Whitney."
"Ditto, Cayden. Ditto."
Another kiss on the forehead and he was gone.
I'm sure Topher and Drew were waiting at the hotel, ready to high five him as he walked in the door, assuming he got some American ass. Little did they know, we hadn't hit a home run. Didn't need to. The base-running alone amounted to at least four standing OOOOOOOOOOOvations.

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