(I Just) Died In Your Arms ~ Stanley Uris

009

Julia's POV

My eyes fluttered open, and I felt the sunlight from Stan's window hit my face. I was still groggy, from being asleep for so long. I started to come more and more back into reality, staring out the window.

I noticed I was laying down with a pillow under my head, and sheets over my body. The feeling of protection and warmth tingled all over my skin. This felt way better than any morning at home. I could feel Stan's arms grasping my stomach, his face close to the back of my neck, I could feel his breathing. I blushed harshly, and nuzzled in his grasp. I enjoyed it, it made me feel safe.

I heard him start to wake up. His snoring ceased and he began to move slightly. He sighed as he got up, and his hands shot back. I wondered what was he thinking when he was asleep to cuddle me that way.

"I'm so sorry!" He exclaimed, and I turned around to him. His hair was messed up, his curls falling over his eyebrows and into his eyes. I could tell by lack of dark circles under his eyes that he slept very well.

"It's fine." I was mesmerized by his soft caring eyes. The way they looked down on me made me feel secure, and they made me forget every problem I have ever had. "Where are your parents? Shouldn't they have bothered us by now?"

"They're out of town going to other synagogues, but I'm basically chained to the house until then." Stan explained, turning to lay on his back to stare at the ceiling. He was lonely, and I felt terrible that I hadn't come earlier.

I rose to a sitting position. I looked at the round clock on his wall. 9 am. Stan sat next to me, his elbow rested on his knees as he fiddled with his hair with one hand, the other laying by his side.

"I missed you." I muttered quietly. He needed to know at least that I was looking for him. If it were me, I would want him to come by and at least see if I was there.

"I missed you too." He responded. "You're like, my best friend."

I smiled, and looked down at my hands. They were still puffy and a dark maroon color. They didn't hurt as much, but they were definitely sore. Most of them scabbed over or became nasty bruises. My fingers had scars from the amount of times I wrestled my dad as he hit me, cutting them on broken shards of plates.

"Stan, I did something bad." I spoke up, looking back at him. He returned my glance with his sweet, big eyes.

"What'd you do?" Stan asked, following my eyes to my hands.

"I punched Bowers in the face." I told him calmly, struggling to straighten my fingers completely. He looked at me in surprise.

"You did what?!" He raised his voice, a grin on his face. "Why?"

"He was making fun of Richie." I laughed, looking at my hands. His eyes followed. "I kind of regret it though, my hands are killing me."

He took my hands into his and examined them for a second. My fingers tingled as they touched his. It felt incredible that I can tell someone anything that came to mind, spilling nearly all my feelings in the span of a few hours.

"Yeah I can see why. Bowers has a pretty big head."

His comment made us laugh in unison, I don't even know why. It wasn't even that funny, but we were both so deprived of seeing each other that any joke would kill us with laughter. We were stumbled over with big smiles across our faces. Every time we stopped, we looked at each other and laughed again. It felt good to laugh again, to laugh even after my dad had defiled me. If I hadn't come here, I would be beside myself trapped in my own mind.

We both simultaneously fell back on the bed and looked up at his smooth ceiling, chuckling to our selves. My stomach was aching with hunger and strain from laughing so hard.