Alan's house is located in a picturesque spot. All Mindy can see as she looks across the moonlit horizon is a range of mountains outlined against a blanket of twinkling stars. The gently rolling hills building up to the sheer cliffs aren't marred by any city lights. The clouds have scurried off to the east, and her eyes adjust quickly to the bluish landscape.
She's sitting out on the roof of Alan's porch, the window to the guest bedroom open behind her. She can see the thin curtains fluttering from the corner of her eye. Her lungs tingle pleasantly as she draws in deep inhalations of sweet smelling smoke, faint wisps floating around her head.
She's only taken two hits, but already her limbs feel pleasantly loose, and her eyes droop down heavily. If she closes them for a second, she can imagine she's floating, a pleasant smile tugging at her lips.
Drifting to sleep in Danny's arms had been the most pleasant sensation. He was warm, and she could hear his heart racing on his chest as he drifted down from his climax. She was in a bit of a daze herself, the muscles in her lower abdomen and legs quivering with aftershocks.
The memory of his hands drifting idly up and down her naked body makes her face warm, blood rushing to the surface of her skin even as the cool air swirls around her.
When she woke unexpectedly, a pervasive restlessness settled over her. He was still cradling her gently, the rise and fall of his chest accompanied by the faintest rattle. It was an odd and rather endearing sound coming from someone who is so visibly fit.
Her fingertips itched to drift down the trail of hair traversing the taut lines of his stomach. She wanted him again, with a hungry desire that surprised her. It had been so long since she'd ached like this for someone. Her unanchored existence hadn't fostered many lasting relationships.
When she gave in to the physical need tonight, it had been one part animal lust and one part genuine affection. Danny was an easy person to care for, and it surprised her that there were seemingly so few people in his life that agreed with that sentiment.
The swift onset of these thoughts sent a little thrill of fear through her, stomach fluttering and chest tight. The realization that she was falling in love with him shocking enough to have her gingerly withdrawing from his embrace and donning the borrowed clothes once again.
Mindy takes another deeply indrawn breath, this time only fresh air filling her chest. The normally pleasant sensation she gets when smoking pot begins to abate. Her thoughts circling around the issue of possibly loving the man sleeping soundly somewhere behind her.
It's inevitable that when they leave here they will part ways, Danny heading back to New York in his dusty rental car, and Mindy getting on a bus back to Boston. The mere thought makes her throat tight and she's fighting against the tears that occasionally slip down her cheeks. Her chin drops down into the collar of her blue poncho, the scent of Alan's detergent drifting up from the toasty garment.
She doesn't think she can go home on her own. She's not like Danny. She wouldn't have any trouble facing her parents, making amends. There's a deep reservoir of strength inside of her, and in all honesty she feels like she's been building up to this moment for a long time. It's just that the thought of letting go of him feels painful, a tearing sensation right under her ribs each time she takes a breath.
The universe is incredibly rude to do this to her, to let her finally find someone who notches into her heart like a corresponding puzzle piece. To send them to each other in such a haphazard manner, two days arguing in the desert, one passionate, if slightly frantic, bout of sex that left her reeling.
She thinks maybe she believes in things he doesn't, and this love bubbling up inside of her cannot possibly be reciprocated because he's not the kind of man to believe in love at all, let alone on such short notice.
She brings the joint to her lips, pinched tight between her fingers as the cherry gets perilously close to her skin. This time when she pulls in the aromatic smoke, she holds it longer, staring up at the shifting constellations. Her eyes are playing tricks on her.
Mindy is floating over him, all bright lights and tinkling laughter. She beckons him with the crook of one finger, biting her bottom lip like she wishes it were his flesh between her teeth, eyes lambent with unspent lust.
The room around him spins lazily, the dim earth tones shimmering and blending together as if it's a mirage. It's quite the contrast to the clarity of the woman hovering just out of grasp.
He reaches for her, intent on pulling her down into a heated embrace. He wants to slowly peel off the silken nightie she's wearing, blue with navajo patterns sliding across the shiny material. The movement makes him dizzy, and his hand passes right through her as if she's mist.
He's dreaming, and he knows it. If he can just reach out and grab her, pull her back down to the bed with him, he's certain he'll wake up with her sleeping in his arms. He can still feel her pressed up against him, the smell of her floral perfume in his nostrils.
He sits up in desperation, swinging out both arms to catch her, only this time when they pass through her ethereal form, the image wavers, wafting away like smoke in the wind.
He thinks maybe he's having a heart attack, the painful squeezing in his chest pushing the air out of his lungs as he tries to call out her name. But she's gone, and nothing he can do will change that.
When he wakes, he's panting, a sheen of sweat cooling on his forehead. He turns to gather her up, to rain kisses down in her happy face, to bury his nose in the tangled locks of hair, but he finds nothing.
The bed is empty, blankets drawn up under his chin as if he'd been tucked in. Which she must have done, because he distinctly recalls falling asleep naked with her, limbs tangled together on top of the fitted sheet, blankets in a messy pile on the floor. He sits up, just like in his dream, pulse pounding erratically as he looks around.
His heart only slows when he notices the open window, cool air carrying the notes of a softly hummed melody into the bedroom. His boxers are on the floor beside him, and he slips them on before padding as quietly as possible to the open window.
The sash is rough hewn, little tiny splinters rough against the palms of his hands, and the air whipping the curtains around makes him shiver. It creates a blanket of goosebumps chasing across his skin. He can see her out on the roof, knees tucked up under her trusty poncho. She looks tiny, like a child swaddled up to the neck.
He can't quite make out what she's humming to herself, but it sounds sad, a refrain that repeats over and over again. One of his knees is up and over the window sash without thinking, and she turns to face him when he scrambles out onto the roof.
He can see the faintly glowing ember pinched between her fingers, and her reason for being out here becomes clear. Funny enough, it doesn't bother him at all, but rather sparks a curiosity he's always been too afraid to entertain.
A/N: your thoughts mean the world to me, don't be shy. :D