-- Before moving into Zach's childhood home, the story of how our relationship started on a cool, late-summer morning. --
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Cool Fall air moves in through the cracked window above my bed. My shoulders almost shiver from the light breeze; it feels incredible on my skin after the last month of abnormal heatwaves. I slide under my light blanket, closer to the radiating heat I feel next to me. On my back I move into his body; he's on his side facing me and his arm moves to close the space in front of him and he rests it on my stomach. I let out a small whisper of a laugh because firstly, his hand feels very nice on my sensitive stomach, but secondly because even the tips of his fingers feel ten degrees warmer than every part of my body right now. It's very early in the morning and I can tell by the blueish light on my white walls the sun is just about to break. For a brief second I mourn the chill of the early morning air, knowing that it's not yet late enough in the year for it to linger past daybreak. The breeze reads my mind and another gust gently comes through the window. The light linen curtains move peacefully over us and I'm taken back to a couple of weeks ago when Zach helped me hang them the first time he came over to my place.
My new apartment hasn't felt very much like home and I always just felt more comfortable going to his, but over the last month we've painted my walls, hung the framed art I had leaning against my wall, and have done a couple random DIY projects. Having him spend the weekend here has brought a new sense of comfort to my oasis in the city.
I turn my head and watch the floating curtains, taking in the moment. I'm met with my own reflection in the large mirror leaning against the wall. Without my contacts our blurred bodies almost seem like one. My dirty blond hair is just lighter than his, which is one of the only things I can distinguish between us other than the tattoo he got on his arm a few weeks ago. I feel, and I see in the reflection he begins to sit up. His clean shave was lost in the night and his chin has the softest shadow to it. I turn towards him, half laying next to me he rests his forehead on mine. In silence he breathes. His morning break almost makes me laugh, but he's being so endearing and cute.
--Morning
His morning voice makes every morning we've been together uniquely comforting. I swear he sleeps deeper than anyone I've ever met and when he speaks for the first time each day it's simultaneously raspy and smooth like he's lost it in the night and it's quietly finding its way back.
He rests next to me and we're sharing my pillow, close, and I can't help but smile.
-Hi
The hand Zach has on my stomach slides to my hip where the top of my black square cut briefs begin and he softly grabs hold of my body. He pulls me in just a bit tighter so my shoulder and arm are pressed against his stomach and chest. He releases the smallest moan while he adjusts his shoulders. I take notice, like I usually do of his arms, which have just enough muscle to see from every angle. Some days I'm almost jealous, but I usually don't care when his strength is fully occupied with pulling me in and holding me. My whole life I've loved touch, in every way, and craved to be held, caressed, hugged, loved... My days feel like they're missing something without someone to hold, or to hold me. His right knee comes over mine finding its way tangled between my legs.
We've been taking things slow since we met at the wedding. He's peaceful but quietly adventurous. Something about the way I was drawn to him--our physical relationship was wonderful but hasn't turned sexual yet. This sort of touch has become routine in the most exciting sense of the word. Zach and I have known each other nearly a month now. The same week as the wedding I had invited him to an mid-summer casual dinner at my friends. A handful of people sat around a small fire in their tiny yard eating off small ceramic plates of charcuterie and drinking wine. I was slightly anxious to be seeing him again after our first sort-of-dinner date, but everything went smoothly. Everyone was chatting and and laughing together, but he kept quietly whispering jokes just to me.
I was continuously impressed by his wit, but moreso by his demeanor. He was quiet, but when he spoke it had value, something I wish I practiced more. That isn't to say every third or fourth little joke wasn't a little cringy, but it was obvious at that point he loved a good
dad joke
. Eventually together we made our way to the movies, a group of four and he once again sat next to me.
Nothing explicitly romantic happened immediately, but it was slowly becoming more apparent the draw I felt towards him was only growing. We planned another date and went out to dinner together, followed by drinks, a walk around downtown, and a goodnight hug. He is a great hugger.
We did this a few more times over the next two weeks until we did takeout and a movie night at his place. I childishly fell asleep on the couch that night, until he brushed his hand across my arm and said, and asked me to move to the bedroom with him.
After a couple of minutes we ended up spooning and talking for a while until my memory of the night just ends-I don't know how I stayed awake so long but for a second time that night I had no recollection of falling asleep, just waking up the next day next to him, early in the morning, his hand pulling me in for an embrace and a
morning
with that voice.
