Looking to Lose (completed)

*7*

Saturday. My day off. 

Each Saturday, one of Roslyn's nieces or nephews comes and helps her run the shop in the morning, and then they spend the day together afterwards. Sometimes I go in the mornings when I know it's Hazel's turn to visit. Hazel is a year younger than me and a firecracker if I've ever met one. Twenty minutes with her and I'll be laughing so hard tears stream from my eyes. She's not the best with customers – she can be a bit too feisty – so I come in to work the cash register and she pours the drinks while making jokes under her breath.

However, it's not Hazel's turn to work this weekend, so I sink blissfully back down into my pillow after seeing it's only 8 AM. Two more hours, I think as I shut my eyes.

A warm hand rubs slow circles on my back. I don't want to open my eyes; I want to feign sleep a little longer, so he doesn't stop caressing me. My face feels warm, though I can't tell if it's because I'm pressed firmly against his body which is radiating heat, or because of the soft sunlight that has settled on me, making colors dance behind my eyelids. I sigh softly and roll over, roll into him, so his arms hold me against his bare chest. Yummy. I feel his fingers lace through my hair, massaging my scalp, combing through the long black strands. And then his lips press gently to my forehead, both my eyelids, my cheeks. His mouth opens, the kisses becoming hot and wet, slobbery almost. I open my eyes to find –

"Jesus Christ Rooney," I mutter as my eyes meet two big, brown, distinctly dog-like ones. She's planting slobbery kisses all over my face. Dog breath is so not what I wanted to wake up to. If I only I could go back to that dream, to that feeling of comfort and warmth. No, if only it wasn't a dream. If only he was really here next to me, holding me, kissing me.

He who? My brain asks. Scott... or Aaron? I can practically hear it smirking... well, myself smirking. Arg, being at war with my own brain is so confusing.

I push myself out of bed, following Rooney down the stairs to the kitchen, where the smell of pancakes greets me, almost making getting out of bed before 10 AM worth it. Almost.

"Sweetie, you're up!" My mom says cheerfully from behind the griddle where she's dropping chocolate chips into four huge pancakes, my usual Saturday morning meal.

"Listen, I've got to do some errands this morning, but I was thinking I can drop you and Rooney off at the dog park for an hour or so? She has a doggy date with that pup from last week I was telling you about, remember?" I just nod as I shovel the chocolatey pancakes in my mouth, needing some sugar in my veins before I can start forming coherent thoughts.

"We can get lunch together after at that cute café by the park. How does that sound?"

I know, I know. We sound like such an all-American family, but it warms my heart. As much as I like to be cynical about my day to day life, there's something comforting about a classic Saturday morning. Plus, I love my dog and I love food, so the deal sounds pretty sweet to me.

"Sure Mom, sounds fun. Let me just finish these and then get dressed."

The spring weather has officially started making its way towards summer; you can smell it in the wind. The smell of damp earth and new beginnings has morphed into the smells of grass clippings and thunderstorms, the olfactory orchestra of summer. The fresh mornings have become considerably more humid, and I can feel my hair starting to frizz as Rooney practically drags me into the park, tugging at her leash until we've reached the gate.

"Go find your friend Roons," I say to her, letting her off her leash and wandering over to the shade of a nearby tree which I lean against, opening up my tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice.