30 December 2012
"Just stay," he said, running his fingers slowly up and down my forearm, his eyes fixed on the swirling black and white pattern of his duvet cover.
"I have work tomorrow," I sighed, stretching, "I really should get home."
He let his fingers slide higher, gently tracing my collarbone and the curve of my ample breasts. He gave me that look from beneath his tumbling fringe, his green eyes wide and glassy, the look he knew I could never resist.
"I guess an hour more wouldn't hurt," I reached out, smiling, catching his wandering hands and pressing them between mine.
"I don't want just one more hour," he whispered, wrapping me in a tangle of bed sheets and arms, "I want you all day. Every day."
I laughed, thinking what he really meant was that he wanted to be able to sleep with me whenever he wanted, rather than just during our long, intense weekends between the sheets.
"I'm serious," he exclaimed, rolling off the bed. He attempted to get dressed, gathering his scattered clothes from the bedroom floor; I settled for wrapping his oversized dressing gown around myself. I caught him in a hug from behind as he pulled a crumpled T-shirt over his head. He stopped, his hands pulling my arms tighter around his lean frame.
"Are you...alright?" I frowned, confused; this wasn't our usual routine.
I normally arrived on Friday evening after a long and often traffic-filled drive. We would go out and drink ourselves into a stupor, discussing our relative failures and successes of the week, before falling into bed together. Saturday was all about long walks, talking, movies, take-out and a bottle of something red before yet more bedroom action. Sunday usually meant desperate morning sex, a quick breakfast and an overly cool goodbye, before we both returned to our normal lives. But he wasn't playing along this week and I had already stayed longer than usual.
Not that I wanted to leave. Truth be told, I lived for the weekends; to see his smile when I arrived, his cheerful hello and friendly hug; to spend hours just talking and laughing; to end up in his bed, pressed between his body and the mattress as he sent the world outside the bedroom into oblivion.
But he had set the rules and they were fixed: we were friends with benefits, nothing more. Nothing serious. Definitely nothing romantic.
Thus, falling in love with him hadn't been part of the plan and, in fear of him revoking our agreement completely, I had kept this minor detail to myself. But I was finding it increasingly harder to say goodbye each Sunday morning.
And today...today he was making it impossible.
He turned, quickly catching me in an unexpected kiss, his tongue lingering in my mouth, his arms pulling me in further until I could feel the vibrations of his heart hamming against his chest. He eventually released me with a long, sad sigh.
"I don't think I can do this anymore," his lips trembled as he spoke, the words falling like lead weights.
I was stunned into silence for a seemingly endless moment. I turned a list of possible reasons over in my mind: he was too busy with work; he wanted to see other people; he wanted to just be friends again; or, worst of all, he'd met someone else. My stomach felt unnaturally low and heavy.
"It's too hard," his eyes were downcast, his expression stony, "being friends with benefits, when what I really want is to hold you and never let go."
"What?" I was dumbstruck; of all the reasons I had imagined it had not crossed my mind that he might be falling for me too.
"I want to wake up next to you every day," he took my hand between his, his eyes finally meeting mine again. "I want to cook for you. I want to take you on a real date. I want to hold your hand when we walk. I want to introduce you as my girlfriend. I want you, all of you, not just crazy weekend you. I know I'm breaking all the rules I set but...rules are made to be broken, right?"
I swallowed hard, struggling to fight back tears of joy.
"Say something," he pleaded, quivering with fear and anticipation, "please, say anything."
"Yes." I said, knowing the one word would be enough.
And he smiled like I had never seen before.
And I stayed.
Just Stay • Opuss № I