Even If You Don't Mean It

Part Two

The night before Sy is due home, you can barely sleep. You're unable to keep your body or mind still, restlessly tossing and turning until you finally begin to doze. However, sleep does come in short waves, exhaustion makes your heavy lids close, only for them to pop open minutes later with excitement and nervous energy. Thoughts race through your mind as if you're on a coffee binge, sometimes rushing through so fast you can't pin them down. You're elated, jittery, and terrified all at once.

Never in your life have you felt such a cocktail of emotions. It makes sense though; there is so much riding on tomorrow. What if you and Sy don't click like you had when you last saw each other? What if he realises that you're not what he really wants in this life?

Pushing aside your worries and insecurities as best as you can, you finally succumb to uninterrupted sleep in the early hours of morning and don't wake until well into daylight. In a way, this was good, Sy was planning to come to your apartment after lunch, so there is plenty of time to get yourself ready.

You take a long shower, using the time under the warm water as a way to stay calm. After you dress, you put on makeup and fix your hair, deliberately keeping your pace measured and unhurried. You don't want to be ready too early, knowing that waiting around for Sy with nothing to do will send you into an anxiety induced panic. You double check that the apartment is clean, that you have all the ingredients for dinner, and that you have plenty of beer.

When the security buzzer goes off during the next unnecessary inspection of your apartment, you freeze like a deer in headlights. You can barely breathe. Every muscle in your body tenses and you have to force yourself to move. Will you even be able to make it to the door?

Your hands tremble as you press the intercom button.

"Hello?" you rasp.

"It's me, Sugar. It's Sy."

Your hand flies to your mouth, your body can't decide if it wants to sob with relief or squeal in excitement. Your stomach churns in on itself, you feel faint and lean your head against the wall for support.

"Sugar?" Sy repeats. "You there?"

Oh shit! How long have you left him standing there? Your face burns so hot you think you might break out in a sweat.

"Yeah, I'm... uh... I'm here," you stutter.

"You gonna let me in, baby?" Sy says and even through the crackling static of your intercom you can hear the amusement in his voice.

You press the security button to open the door. Your breathing grows shallow as you wait for Sy to make his way up the stairs, and you find it hard to swallow.

You're trying not to lose it.

You have to get a hold of yourself or you're going to ruin everything. You fill your lungs with air until they're nearly bursting, holding it in for a count of three, then slowly letting it out. You do it again, and again, hoping to reach some level of calm before he arrives at your door.

The next moments happen in slow motion: he knocks— you open the door, and he's standing there within your reach. You could lift your hand and touch him, if only to make sure he's real, but all you can do is gawk. He's taller than you remember, his eyes are bluer too, and you're surprised to see he still has his beard.

You swallow hard and try to smile, to say hello, to say anything, but you just stare at him. You would feel embarrassed, but it seems he has been struck motionless as well. Well, not quite motionless, you can see his chest heave with every hard and heavy breath. He's so big, his chest strains against his t-shirt, revealing the outline of his pecs with every inhale. His jeans fare no better, so tight against his thighs you think there was no way they could be comfortable.