Before I Met You

18: "Things?"

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙴𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗

 "𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜?"

IN THE MORNING I'm wrapped up with Elena, her half naked body pressed against mine. For a moment I just want to sit and lay in this bed with her. I don't want to get up, I don't want to start the day. Instead I want to just enjoy one of the first mornings in a long time where I haven't been reminded of my past.

Almost as if I spoke too soon, Elena stirs underneath the covers and gently blinks her eyes open before she lets out a groan. "Ugh." She pushes the covers up over her eyes to block out the light. "My head is fucking throbbing."

"Well you're probably hungover." I joke. "You had quite the night."

When her eyes pop open, she lifts the covers up and glances down at herself. "We didn't have sex, did we?"

"Um, no. You wanted to do other things, but we didn't."

She sits up in the bed now and runs her fingertips through her hair, letting out an irritated sigh. "I'm sorry." She says. "I probably tease you all the time. It must be frustrating for you."

"It's alright." I shrug and watch her rise to her feet while I try to take in every ounce of her body as possible. I know I'm probably not going to be able to see it again for awhile.

She slips on a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt, looking back at me for a second while I continue to stare at her. "Do you want to get something to eat?" She asks.

I want to ask her if she remembers telling me about her past last night, or if she remembers finding my bandage. I can't seem to ever know what she's thinking. She's the most difficult person to read.

When I push the covers off of my body to stand up, her eyes trail down my body and to my briefs, staring longer than she should be. I ignore it though and tug on my clothing from yesterday.

"So, that's a yes?" She raises her eyebrows at me, and that's when I realize I still haven't responded to her.

"Oh, sure." I nod. "I could eat."

When we head out into the hallway and step into the elevator, images of her wrapped around my waist come into my mind. Yesterday she seemed different. Like her walls were let down with me. Now she seems to have that same facade put back up. It's hard to get to know her when she won't tell me much about herself. Then again, I'm the same exact way.

"Fuck." I groan when my phone starts to ring and I see my mom on the caller ID. It takes me a minute to decide what I want to do, but eventually I hit ignore and shove the phone back into my pocket.

"Why do you hate her so much?" She asks.

"I don't hate her. She's my mom."

"Well you sure act like it."

I watch her press the button for the first floor and rest my back up against the elevator. If it were anyone else questioning the relationship with my parents I'd be a lot more irritated, but Elena always has questions.

"I don't hate her. She just wants me to go back home for winter break and I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because things with my dad aren't the best. They haven't been for awhile now."

I'm thankful when she lets the topic of conversation go because I think she can tell that I'm irritated. We head out onto the sidewalk and begin to walk to her choice of a food spot that I'm still unsure of, and when the sun gleams down onto my face I realize that it's not too hot, but it's not too cold either. The temperature is perfect.