Eat Your Breakfast

The early morning sunshine peeks through the blinds and into your bedroom, the warm rays caressing your cheek as you stir from your slumber.

You reach your arms out, stretching wildly and rolling around in the sheets for a moment, enjoying the soft cotton against your toes and the comfy fabric of the overlarge sweatshirt you'd slept in, quiet little moans escaping your lips as you sigh in content.

You'd slept amazing last night, finally getting a full nights rest after days of feeling restless and lethargic. Every day you'd waited for the hours to tick by for the moment you could crawl back into your bed and try again.

You'd done everything you could think of to try and help; turned on the string lights and faux candles around your room for a subtle glow, lit your favorite lavender and vanilla scented candle to soothe your senses, even taking a luxurious bath routinely after work to relax your tired body. Nothing seemed to be working the whole week, that is until Friday rolled around and he showed up.

Erik. The absolute love of your life. He'd been swamped in work all week, unable to stop by and see you every night like he usually did. He was over your place so often you almost wanted to ask why he didn't just move in, but you didn't want him to feel pressured into making a big decision like that based off your wants.

When the clock struck five on Friday evening he was finally free, and by 5:45 he was at your doorstop, a duffle packed with clothes for the weekend slung over his shoulder, and a bouquet of roses in his hand.

You'd think by the way you'd enthusiastically hopped up into his arms and made him drop everything that you'd spent all night rolling around in those cotton sheets of yours, but you didn't.

Instead, you'd spent it curled up in his lap, watching old reruns of Girlfriends while he massaged Tea Tree oil into your scalp, eventually drifting off into a deep sleep.

Last night was amazing.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you tuck your feet into your house slippers and stand up to stretch your legs, hearing about five different joints pop and lock in protest.

Erik always begged you to go to a chiropractor to get that looked at, but you refused, arguing that it'd been normal for you ever since you were about 12. Besides, why go to a chiropractor when he was the best back breaker in town you knew?

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you wander out of the bedroom, your nose following the delicious scent of frying bacon and buttery biscuits just pulled from the oven. You shuffle into the kitchen, seeing Erik over the skillet frying up an aromatic combination of veggies and meat for the omelettes he planned on making.

"Morning babygirl," he calls to you over his shoulder, and you wonder how in the world he managed to hear you over all the noise he was making.

"Maybe if you didn't drag your feet so much you'd actually be able to sneak up on a nigga one day." He turns and looks at you, laughing at your scrunched up puzzled face at his comment.

You grunt off handedly, rolling your eyes and shuffling your ass on over to give him a good morning hug and kiss before standing off to the side to watch him cook.

You look over all the prepared food, basking in the intoxicating fumes of it all, and your stomach grumbles. More so in gas than in hunger.

"Uhh... who bout to eat all this?" you point a finger around at the spread, cocking an eyebrow.

Erik had a huge appetite and could definitely eat about 3 servings all on his own, but you never ate anything before about 11:30 and he knew that. It was currently 8:00.