Page 28 of To Go
I look around the beige-painted room. There’s a significant lack of colour in my possessions, most everything being either black or grey. I always valued functionality over style. I hadn’t really seen a need to get anything colourful or… pretty until I saw that blue wall.
That wall spoke of possibility, of opening myself up to something new, something calmer and softer than the harsh tones I surrounded myself with for years. It made me want to buy things for enjoyment, for beauty, instead of merely practicality. It made me want to make my space something to share with people.
Jesus, it’s just a wall,I chastise myself. I’m waxing poetic about pigment.
Laying on top of my blankets, I try to calm myself. I can hear the soft ticking of the clock in the living room. Nothing I do can make me sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. The way her face glowed every time she won a game. Her curiosity about my favourite show. The way she listened to me.
She got me to talk to her.
I’ve never talked about my parents with anyone. Beck and I aren’t close enough. The band would hate how self-pitying it sounds, not to mention it would mean they need a new drummer. Nessa can’t… handle it emotionally.
And then there was her.
There’s this line in my life. On one side is my boring, routine life of playing show after show, knowing what was waiting for me whenever I had to inevitably quit. On the other side is Stella. Seeing the way she craves adventure and excitement. Seeingher in those leather leggings, reveling in her supple, willing body against mine, hearing her tinkling little laugh, the way she gasped when I pressed her up against the door, the way she tasted…
I’ve got to stop, because if I keep thinking about it, my dick is going to get way too excited. Something about getting off to her while she’s asleep in my living room, unknowing, is plain old creepy. It’s not right.
I’ll have to wait until I’m awake and show her.The thought runs through my head before I can stop it and I cringe.
Oh, I am so going to hell.
I don’t sleep a wink. Instead, I watch the gentle orange glow of the sun paint the wall opposite of me, highlighting shadows of still-falling snow as it rises. I’m going to need the world’s biggest coffee today. My one consolation prize is that I don’t have anywhere to be, if the snow outside is any indicator.
And there’s still a woman asleep in my living room. Wearing my clothes.
I need to suck it up, be a man, and ask how she slept. Offer her some breakfast. That’s it. I’m being a good host. Nothing untoward.
I walk into the living room and am immediately faced with Stella’s ass.
Literally.
She’s bent in half in my living room, toes and hands on the ground, ass in the air. I nearly swallow my tongue. I didn’t evenhear her moving around. This is the best morning of my life and I’ve only been up for eight and a half minutes.
“Good morning!” She calls out as she straightens.
“What the hell was that?” I ask a little too gruffly, willing my blood to stop rushing south. I walk over to the single-serve coffee machine and make us some drinks.
“That the hell was yoga, stud. Keeps you limber.” She throws me a wink and saunters over to grab the hoodie I gave her last night. Silently, I hold the cup of coffee I made out to her. She evaluates it for a moment before wrapping her hands around it and snuggling down into my couch, giving it a sniff before setting it down. I sit across from her, sipping my drink and scrolling on my phone.
“You’re mighty chipper for this hour.” The coffee machine was untouched when I made our cups, so I can’t figure out where she’s gotten all of this energy.
“I like to think that anything can happen, so every morning you wake up at all is a good morning,” she says, her smile beaming.
“How depressingly optimistic.”
“It’s something my dad says.” There’s a strong emotion attached to the words that I’m way too damn tired to figure out. I change the subject instead.
“Hope you’re good hunkering down here another day.” I nod my chin towards the window. She pads over in her bare feet to peer out.
Aaaaand I’m looking at her ass again.
“Guess we’ll have to find something to do then,” she says, still watching the snow.
“More card games?” I venture. Other than the three games I own and streaming services, there’s not a whole lot left to do.
“We could play truth or dare?” She throws it out like a joke and there’s mischief colouring her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure there’s enough to stream without resorting to a middle school game,” I scoff.
