Dave leaves to get me a glass of water and some aspirin for my headache. He wears nothing but a pair of deep purple boxer shorts, his muscular chest and arms and legs so different from the scrawny boy’s body I remember growing up. I have so many questions—not just for him, but for myself, as well. I can’t deny I enjoyed waking up beside someone again. I enjoyed the kiss last night, too, what I remember of it. The taste of him, the feel of his tongue in my mouth, the press of his lips against mine.
What’s that say about me?
I know I should get out of bed, get dressed, go home. But it’s so comfortable here among the sheets, among Dave’s manly scent. I feel safe here. I feel loved. Again, finally. If nothing else, I want to savor that feeling, that emotion. Lord knows I haven’t felt it enou
