JENNIE
I lie on top of Lisa's chest to catch my breath. Both of our bare chests are moving slowly up and down in our postcoital bliss. It doesn't feel as foreign as I had believed it would, not at all. I was desperately missing being intimate with her; I know that making love so soon, before anything has been determined, may not have been the best idea, but right now, as her fingers trail up and down my spine, it sure feels like it.
I can't stop picturing the way her body looked underneath mine as she lifted her hips off the mattress to fill me completely. We've slept together many times, but this time goes down as one of the best. It was so intense and sincere and full of want—no, need—for each other.
Lisa's temper got the best of her only a short while ago, but as I stare up at her, her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly upturned.
"I know you're staring at me, and I have to take a piss," she finally says, and I can't help but giggle. "Up you go." She lifts my body at my hips to lay me beside her.
Lisa's hands run through her hair and she pushes the loose fringe back to bare her forehead while she retrieves her clothing from the floor. And disappears from the room, leaving me to get myself dressed. My eyes dart to her worn T-shirt on the floor, and out of habit I bend down to pick it up but then drop it again. I don't want to push things or make her angry, so I should just stick to my own clothing for now.
It's nearly eight, so I go ahead and pull on a pair of loose sweats and a plain T-shirt. The wreckage from Lisa's outburst covers the floor, so I take it upon myself to begin putting everything back in its place; the clothes from my drawers are my first task. Lisa enters the room as I'm zipping my suitcase full of novels.
"What are you doing?" she asks. She holds a glass of water and a muffin in one of her large hands.
"Just straightening up," I say quietly.
I'm slightly nervous that we'll slide back into fighting again, so I'm unsure of how to behave. "Okay . . ." she says, placing the glass and snack on the dresser before walking over to me.
"I'll help," she offers and picks up the broken chair from the floor. We work in silence to get the room back to its normal state. Lisa grabs the suitcase and walks toward the closet with it, nearly tripping over a decorative pillow from the bed.
I don't know if I should speak first and I'm not sure what to say; I know she's still angry, but I keep catching her eyes on me, so she must not be too angry.
She steps out from the closet holding a small bag and a medium-sized box. "What's this?"
Oh no. "Nothing." I hurry to my feet in an attempt to take the items from her.
"Are these for me?" she asks with a curious expression.