Page 153 of Falling Backwards
Although I’m not sure what time it is, the way the sunlight looks through my patio-door blinds says it’s not time to get up yet.We don’t have anything scheduled until this afternoon.No alarms are about to go off.We aren’t late for anything.
So I take my time fully coming conscious.
It involves drifting off another couple times, truthfully, but who cares?‘Not I,’said the Luke.
The Luke would happily stay like this for a long time.
Maggie’s steady breathing is interrupted by a deep inhalation and a contented sigh of an exhalation.
Contented for now, anyway.I hope she isn’t about to realize she’s put my hand near her boobs and then fling it away and bring a swift end to me being in her personal space, which is the best place I’ve ever….
But no, all she’s doing is regaining her grip on my hand and nuzzling my other arm, which is peeking out from under the throw pillow we can’t quite share.
Pleased, I brush my thumb over the part of her hand I can reach.Back and forth and back again.
Her next breath is deep, too, but more even than before.Her fingers flex gently around mine.
“Morning,” I greet her, my voice a bit scratchy.
“Good morning,” she murmurs in kind.
Yes, it is.
I wait for it to stop.For her to end it.
Still doesn’t happen.
She stays right where she is, humming softly when I keep brushing my thumb over her skin.
Itcould’vebeen said that we were putting on a show when we were holding hands those other times, but it definitely doesn’t feel like that right now.Just feels like Maggie and Luke.
Adult Maggie and Luke.
Not-thinking-about-old-bullshit Maggie and Luke.
Can we not-think about it forever?We’re happy like this.
“I wish we could lie here all day,” she says.
I agree, “Fuck yes.Let’s call in to work.”
Her giggle sounds as good as it feels, which is damn good.
“Well, no, we shouldn’t do that,” she amends in true Maggie fashion.“So nevermind, I guess.”
“Mmm.Logically, I know you’re right.Saturday nights bring good tips at the bar, and you’d be guilt-ridden to hell and back if you shirked a responsibility.”
Another giggle.
“But,” I go on, smiling, “theillogicalpart of me is ready to fake a disgusting cough and make the call and then tack on an ominous-sounding,‘Sure hope I haven’t gotten Maggie sick too….’”
This time I get big, bursting laughter that bounces throatily off my living room walls and almost certainly brightens every corner of my apartment.It shakes both of us like last night when I made her laugh while she stood in my coat with me, except this isbetterlaughter because we just woke up together.
And I want.
To fucking.
Taste it.
