Kiss The Sky

The Butterfly Effect

Laying between your cotton sheets and down comforter, you stared into the mirror mounted on your ceiling. Arms spread wide across your plethora of fuzzy and fluffy pillows, enveloped in a clouded sea of comfort. You laid there wearing nothing but a wireless cream bralette and some barely-there cotton panties under your ocean of dreamy wonderland.

With a heavy sigh, you questioned yourself in the mirror. 'It's been a whole week,' you contemplated. 'A whole fucking week and nothing'.

You had slipped Flip your phone number, crudely written on a bar napkin, and he hadn't even bothered to use it to call you up. You played the night over and over in your head.

Was it the outfit you were wearing? I mean it wasn't exactly first impression material, but it had gotten his attention. Did you drink too much? Say something stupid to or about him? You couldn't recall any instance where you had insulted him.... Well besides calling him Phil, but he brushed that off like it was nothing. In fact, he called you honey immediately following, which made your stomach twist.

'Honey' you kept hearing as you fell asleep for the last week. It made you weak. You so badly wanted to hear him say it again to you. To watch it leave his precious lips again. See his eyes blowback with complete lust as he spoke it into existence. But it seemed too good to be true after day four rolled around.

"Patrice, I don't know what's going on," you whined as you stirred your morning coffee in your silk robe and panty set.

"I mean, I keep going through it in my head, and I can't rationalize why he hasn't called?" desperately looking to her for some encouragement. You took a sip from your coffee as she filled her mug up too.

"Girl, I don't know what the hell is up with him either. You both seemed to be smitten the last time I laid eyes on y'all," she confirmed. "In fact, I seem to recall you on his lap with your tongue down his throat nearly the entire night?" she giggled into her coffee.

"I know! And before that, we were getting along like we knew each other already! I just don't understand?" You sipped on your hot Joe daydreaming about his luscious lips enveloped on yours. How they went together like velcro. You loved the way his mustache tickled your cupid's bow and his musky scent filled your nostrils with every heaved breath you took.

"Maybe it was because I did kiss him," you thought out loud. "Maybe he thinks I'm easy like the other girls he's been with?" You suddenly felt sick to your stomach.

"Oh god, I blew it. Didn't I?" you stammer out to her putting both hands over your face. "Girl, calm down, I don't think that's the issue we got here."

"Well then what else could it possibly be?"

"Maybe it's because he's a busy guy? He does work odd hours, and Ron told me he's very into his job," Patrice nodded as she refilled your mug. You slid your fingers down your face, pulling the fragile skin on your lower lids and rolling your eyes with a huge moan.

"Just give him some time, Y/N. He'll call. And if he doesn't, I'll personally go down and kick him in the balls for ya!" She bumped your ass with hers making you jump and giggle.

"Y-ya. You know what? You're right. I need to get over it. It's not like we have been together for years and he's dodging my calls. You know what it is.... What it is!" You forcefully put your mug down in agreement with your newly found confidence.

"Fuck Flip Zimmerman and his bullshit mind games!" you yelled, moving to go take your morning shower.

Just then, the telephone rang.

You both stopped in your tracks, looking at each other like deer in the headlights. Patrice was the first to move. She ambled to the phone on the wall and picked it up on the fifth ring.