Five Dollar Mocha: 12
Sydney wakes up sweating, gasping, bedsheets bunched around her. She sits up and looks to her left at Michael's absence. It's not as if not having him beside her gives her nightmares. This is the third time this week she's woken this way.
This is the third time this week he's stood her up.
And she has brushed it away, blaming it on that secret government job he holds. He left her a message the first time, spouting a quick "sorry I couldn't make it but I'll call you later" two hours after their agreed upon meeting time. The third time, she didn't even expect him to show up. She'd invited him to her house for dinner. She didn't even change from the tight tank and shorts she had worn to run through the park.
The possibility of an affair runs through her head yet again. She had first thought of it the third night he stood her up as she peeled off her clothing to take a shower. She had tossed her clothes onto the floor of her bathroom and stepped into the tub, disbelieving. It was—it is impossible. Even now, as she straightens her sheets and attempts to go back to sleep, she refuses to believe that Michael does not feel for her the way she feels for him.
-
She lies on her side beside him, watching his chest move up and down as he breathes softly and evenly. He had apologized, profusely, mumbling something about work and important deadlines. Sydney had accepted immediately, lost in those amazing green eyes.
She is too in love with him.
She hasn't said anything yet, but even though this is only the second time he has stayed overnight at her house, they have spent so much more time getting to know one another. She runs her hand across his bare chest and he stirs, his hand coming up to meet hers.
"Good morning."
She laughs, clearly and perfectly, tossing her head back ever so slightly. She snuggles closer to him. "It's only three."
"It doesn't matter." She looks at him strangely, and he continues. "Any time I wake up next to you is a good morning."
She leans down and kisses him, murmuring that he is so amazingly sweet and kissing him again. She's tired and sore, but a newfound energy is pulsing through her. He rolls over her, and she opens her eyes and looks up at him as he ends the kiss.
"I love you."
If he's caught by surprise, he doesn't show it. "I love you, too."
Sydney wakes up sweating, gasping, bedsheets bunched around her. She sits up and looks to her left at Michael's absence. It's not as if not having him beside her gives her nightmares. This is the third time this week she's woken this way.
This is the third time this week he's stood her up.
And she has brushed it away, blaming it on that secret government job he holds. He left her a message the first time, spouting a quick "sorry I couldn't make it but I'll call you later" two hours after their agreed upon meeting time. The third time, she didn't even expect him to show up. She'd invited him to her house for dinner. She didn't even change from the tight tank and shorts she had worn to run through the park.
The possibility of an affair runs through her head yet again. She had first thought of it the third night he stood her up as she peeled off her clothing to take a shower. She had tossed her clothes onto the floor of her bathroom and stepped into the tub, disbelieving. It was—it is impossible. Even now, as she straightens her sheets and attempts to go back to sleep, she refuses to believe that Michael does not feel for her the way she feels for him.
-
She lies on her side beside him, watching his chest move up and down as he breathes softly and evenly. He had apologized, profusely, mumbling something about work and important deadlines. Sydney had accepted immediately, lost in those amazing green eyes.
She is too in love with him.
She hasn't said anything yet, but even though this is only the second time he has stayed overnight at her house, they have spent so much more time getting to know one another. She runs her hand across his bare chest and he stirs, his hand coming up to meet hers.
"Good morning."
She laughs, clearly and perfectly, tossing her head back ever so slightly. She snuggles closer to him. "It's only three."
"It doesn't matter." She looks at him strangely, and he continues. "Any time I wake up next to you is a good morning."
She leans down and kisses him, murmuring that he is so amazingly sweet and kissing him again. She's tired and sore, but a newfound energy is pulsing through her. He rolls over her, and she opens her eyes and looks up at him as he ends the kiss.
"I love you."
If he's caught by surprise, he doesn't show it. "I love you, too."
