Miss, Do I Know You?

34 - Saturday, March 6

The warm embrace of the blankets was disrupted by a touch on my bare shoulder, a gentle shake that beckoned me to awaken. Though I resisted parting ways with the bed, tens of dainty kisses on my arm imprinted a warmth in my chest that summoned my consciousness.

Flipping over, I beheld her in all her morning glory, with her sleepy eyes and tousled hair. A small smile curved my lips, but as I discerned what danced in her gaze, I couldn't keep a tinge of sadness from seeping in.

"I know," I said quietly. "I'll go in a minute."

In both yearning and surrender, Alex buried her face in the shelter of my chest, her arms enfolding me. "I'm sorry," she whined, her voice muffled by my skin, "but Benji needs to be up, and Gabi will be here any minute now."

Thoughts darted and weaved in search of a way to extend our stolen moments. I pulled her closer to me, not wanting to relinquish the warmth of her embrace, as if by sheer proximity, I could hold back the hands of time. "Maybe we should just tell her? I want to stay here, with you."

Alex shook her head, a sigh falling off her lips. "We've talked about this," she said, remnants of sleep lending her voice a roughened timbre. "She especially knows the risks more than anyone else. But stay for breakfast. I don't want to make you feel like you have to leave."

My fingertips traced from the nape of her neck down the curve of her spine, settling on her hip. "Okay."

She straddled me, her gaze descending upon me with an affectionate tenderness. "Okay."

With reverence, I savored every aspect of her as though it was my first time beholding her, forever preserving my unwavering adoration. The strange dynamic between us had left me at a loss for a long time, undeniably beyond conventionality. But one certainty reigned. I could never get enough of her.

If not bound by work, band practice, or gigs, I spent most of my time with her and her family. The four of us were as tight-knit as ever, and those days together only added to our treasured connection. The strange thing was that when nightfall draped its cloak, I always ended up in bed with her.

We couldn't stay away from each other. I couldn't keep her out of my mind. She was always there, front and center as my one prominent thought, radiant and undeniable like the sun in the sky. She reigned so supreme that I forgot even the simplest of pleasures, such as the taste of a cigarette.

Under the cover of those nights spent apart, my mind rendered me unable to find peaceful rest. And at the next dawn, I would find myself under the covers in her bed, stealthily slipping away before the sun could announce my presence. It was like a covert affair, our way of expressing what we felt for each other, shrouded in secrecy and known only to us.

But that connection between us was a source of immense joy. She was my closest person. The conversations we shared in the still of night, particularly after physical intimacy, were a highlight of my days. And though it was obvious that I held feelings for her, I was uncertain where that would lead us.

Simultaneously thrilling and confusing, the dynamics of our situationship were a tangled mess. Sunlit hours witnessed me around her family, even fetching Benji from school when she had late workdays or other obligations, and the nocturnal hours witnessed me wrapped in her arms and between her legs. But even as we reveled in the heat of our desire, we remained aware of the fragility and complexity of it all.

For three weeks, it had been just casual sex, nothing more. And yet, it felt like so much more. It had the depth and impact of a new lover's first touch, electric and hot. But it also held the comfort and familiarity of an old friend's embrace, a safe haven. It was a confusing and exhilarating feeling, a strange and beautiful dance between two people who were irrevocably drawn to each other, despite any resistance.