I looked back at him for what felt like 20 minutes.
"What's up?" I asked, groggy.
"Just wondering what you're thinking." He replied, keeping his eyes on mine.
We looked at each other again. I had just spent two days with this person, taking only a few hours off at a time to do human things, but then only to go back to his bed and exist as a red-hot band of nuclear energy that kicks in when a relationship is in the throws of infancy. I felt the temperature rise in my chest again.
I recalled the first symptoms of a new relationship: the absolute mind-crushing feeling of desire for one person. To have my entire day altered when I see them; to think about them constantly; to wish, with every piece of me, to be able to push them into me, hold them against my chest and breathe them in. The feeling is mind numbing. I can suddenly spend days doing nothing but lying in bed naked and talking about inside jokes and shared experiences. Plans I made get dimmer and priorities are not so important. I can lightly brush through life knowing someone, not so far away, is waiting for me somewhere and when he sees me will make me his universe, worshipping me and all my flaws.
I was staring back at The Musician on the bed. Tired. Exhilarated. And a surprised at how quickly everything is escalating. This guy is pretty damn great, and getting better and better each week. I didn't think I'd get into a relationship. I assumed I'd keep meeting more Tom, Dick and Harry's for a while. And everyday that goes by spent in his arms means less and less time spent on what any of the other boys must feel like.
I tried to convey all of that with my eyes, but instead leaned in and kissed his neck.
"I'm thinking coffee and breakfast." I hummed from between my pursed lips, my thoughts fading into a fuzzy background noise.
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