The rays of early morning light begin to peak over the crest of the distant mountains, bathing everything in its wake in hues of pale gold and pink. Jimmy sleeps soundly beside me, his face void of his daily stresses, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath the thin blue sheet that covers the majority of his body. He looks so peaceful when he's asleep, a side I rarely see outside of the privacy of the bedroom that we now share. Tentatively, I reach out, the pads of fingertips dancing gingerly along the length of his jawline. The prickle of fresh stubble can be felt as I trace a line down to his chin before pulling my hand away to rest against his chest. So this is exclusive; an achievement I never expected to, well, achieve. Everyone I'd met before Jimmy had been so…shallow. Then again where do I rank in that scale? Lord knows I'm as judgmental as they come. But then so is Jimmy. The corners of my mouth pull downwards to form a frown while I begin to pull my hand away from the man sleeping next to me, Becca's words creeping into my consciousness.
"You and Gretchen are poison people. This is gonna end so badly."
She hadn't told me that, naturally. It was Jimmy who filled me in on their conversation, and at the time it hadn't bothered me one bit. But now.. Now things were different, and I genuinely wanted this, whatever this is, to work. The sudden grasp of Jimmy's hand over mine startles me, eliciting a jump of surprise as my gaze lifts to find his. I'd been so wrapped up in my thoughts that I'd completely missed him rousing from his sleep.
"Hey," he mutters in that oh-so-posh accent of his, a lazy smile forming after his morning greeting.
"Hey." I return the sentiment with a smile of my own. Try as I might, however, the tone of my voice is forced, and Jimmy notices immediately. I watch as his brows crease, his eyes scanning me as if he's attempting to read me. Damn him.
"What is it," he probes.
Think, Gretchen, think. "Uh.. Ugh, it's nothing, Jimmy. Just cramps." S?! Jesus Christ, am I trying to get myself cut off for another five days? I roll away from him, disgusted with my pathetic excuse for an escape. Slipping out from under the sheets I pad along the hardwood floor, seeking the first sign of an escape route. Seeking out the bathroom just down the hall, I slip in and shut the door, releasing a sigh of relief as I do so. "What the hell are you doing," I mumble to myself while my eyes close, head lulling back to rest against the wooden door. Why do I do this to myself time and time again? Sure the guys before had been utter garbage, but.. But Jimmy is different, dammit. Isn't he? Stepping away from the door, my hands find their way into red locks, fingers combing through the unruly bed-head as I begin to pace the length of the small bathroom floor. Could it really be Becca's doubt in our relationship that has me feeling this way, or is it in fact the label? Exclusive. With the creation of a label comes an end, it's only a matter of time. I realize now, as my pacing quickens, that I don't want this to end. Not ever. And that scares me more than anything.