Sunday, August 21, 2011

211. There's no place like home.

Hot, sweaty, morning sex calls for a warm, refreshing shower. Unfortunately, we had to shower separately because the shower in my new house was almost half the size of my shower in my old apartment, but still three times the size of the shower I'd used at Cayden's.

Although I missed splashing around with him in the shower and letting him lather me up, there were a lot of things about joint showers that I didn't miss. Like shivering off to the side while Cayden hogged the water to wash his hair. And, really, is there any attractive way to wash certain parts of your body while someone else is watching? (If you're CRACKing up, you know what I'm talking about.) And don't even get me started with the whole joint-shower shaving situation.

"Hey, babe," I said as I knocked on the bathroom door. I heard him drop the shampoo bottle and bang his elbow on the glass door simultaneously.

"What does he do in there?" my roommate Joyce asked as she walked by. "It sounds like he's fighting himself."

"Babe?" I asked again, louder. "You OK?"

"Pardon?" he asked from the shower.

I pushed the door open slightly and poked my head in.

"The AC guy is going to be here in an hour. Want to go grab breakfast with Joyce and Joey before he gets here?"

"Sure, I'll be out in a bit."

I lingered in the doorway, watching him lather soap across his chest and arms. For a moment, I thought about jumping in there with him, going for morning sex round two, but my stomach growled and suddenly food sounded better than sex.

A girl's gotta have priorities.

Fifteen minutes later, the four of us were huddled around a table at Einstein Bros with our mouths full of bagel sandwiches and fresh fruit. We all took turns sighing and expressing our gratitude for the cold AC that greeted us as we stepped in from yet another 105-degree summer day.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" Cayden asked between bites of his sausage and egg sandwich.

"Pool!" Joey shouted with his mouthful. I flinched, predicting food to fly out of his mouth. It didn't.

Our feet dangled from our high stools and Cayden made a point to graze my leg as he swung his feet like a 5-year-old. I smiled when I looked down at the flip flops he was wearing. I'd bought them before he got there because I couldn't handle one more day of him wearing swim trunks with socks and tennis shoes (or 'trainers' as he called them). I'd also bought him a new pair of shorts to ease him out of his beloved cargo pants. There were a lot of things I loved about Cayden, but his wardrobe just wasn't one of them. But decked out in his new shorts and flip flops, he looked downright delicious.

"I can't wait to get some sun," Cayden said. "I'm so jealous of the sun and heat you guys have here."

"Yeah, until the AC breaks and you're forced to sleep naked on your back and snore all night," I said.

Joyce and Joey raised an eyebrow at me.

"It's true," Cayden said. "That happened."

"When are you getting those tonsils out?" Joyce asked.

"Soon. Very soon."

Joyce and Joey finished up their bagels and headed home to meet the AC man while Cayden and I headed to Sam's so I could get a prescription filled. I'd never stepped inside a Sam's before, and I wasn't a member, so it felt like forbidden territory.

"That will be ready in 20 minutes," the pharmacist said.

"OK, Cayden, we have 20 minutes to kill. What shall we do?"

"Let's go look at all of the furniture and electronics and pick out what we'd have in our house," he said, then grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the pharmacy.

My heart fluttered when he said "our house." I'd pictured it so many times, but it looked different every time. One day it would be a modern loft downtown with low-back furniture and a platform bed. Another day it would be a cute little house with a porch and a porch swing. Another day we'd be an old, renovated duplex in Addison. But I always pictured us waking up together, brushing against each other as we made coffee and poured cereal. Then we'd kiss before we left for work. In reality, I'd probably wake up cranky and beg him to bring me coffee in bed, but it was fun to imagine.

By the time my prescription was ready, we'd picked out a mattress, a coffee table and an extravagant 70-something-inch flatscreen TV. I decided they'd all look best in the small house with the porch swing, but I kept that little tidbit to myself.

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