The Morning After

349 6 0
                                    


It was still dark outside when I woke up. My legs were sore so I stretched them and sighed. Arms tightened around me, and all the memories of the night before flooded my mind.

"Mmm, g'morning." Bobby said, his voice full of sleep.

"Good morning," I said. My voice was hoarse. If I was right it was about 5 in the morning. So I had gotten maybe four hours of sleep. I inhaled deeply then took a moment to assess the situation I was in. I was laying on one of Bobby's arms and his other was draped over my stomach, holding me tightly. I could feel that his body was molded to mine with my back against his chest. His face was buried in my hair, probably trying to fall back asleep.

This was a predicament that a few months ago I would have killed to be in. But now? Now, it made my chest hurt. Once Bobby was awake, he would withdraw his arms. He would leave my house and we wouldn't talk again until War Games, and only then if we failed at avoiding each other.

The memory of how his lips fit against mine pushed its way into my head. Tears filled my eyes. It had felt so right.

"You're awfully quiet this morning," Bobby said, pressing his lips to my hair.

A tear spilled down my cheek and I wiped it quickly away. "I just thought you'd want to go back to sleep."

"Nah, I told you I always get up this early."

He had told me that. The first time that he had ever stayed here after a night of drinking. He made no effort to move and neither did I. I would gladly let this last moment of bliss last for as long as possible.

"How hungover are you?" I asked.

"On a scale of one to ten, about a four."

"Just a four?" I asked with a little laugh.

"Well, I have a little bit of a headache, but that's it. I also still remember everything from last night so it's not that bad."

I swallowed hard remembering the night before. His mouth bruising mine. His hand knotted in my hair. His body over mine, pressing me into the bed. The way we'd both been breathless when I broke us apart. When I spoke my once was barely above a whisper, "everything?"

He tensed up behind me. "Yes...everything."

I didn't want to talk about this. I wanted to stay lost in this little moment of ours. This conversation would shatter it all.

"I don't regret it." He whispered into my hair.

"Me either."

His arms tightened again, pulling me even closer into him. I leaned into it, letting myself melt into his chest. His legs tangled with mine. I snaked my arm around his, completely wrapping us up together. I felt his breath on my ear, "this is nice."

The knife in my chest twisted yet again. "Yes, it is."

We laid like that until our breathing synched and I felt light headed from the way he was holding me. Last night, I had been certain that if he remembered anything about what happened between us this morning then he would have practically ran out of here. So saying it was a shock that he was still laying in bed about an hour after we woke up and that he was allowing us to stay tangled together in the mess of sheets and blankets was an understatement.

"What do you think the chances are that everyone else is awake?" Bobby asked with a sigh.

I reluctantly pulled myself out of his vice grip and grabbed my phone from the side table. It was 5:45. "Probably very little chance. Rhea likes to sleep in after shows, I know for sure."

ComplicatedDär berättelser lever. Upptäck nu