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I woke up that morning feeling cool, with Dallas's bulky comforter twisted around my body, hugging it so nicely I figured if I moved an inch it would ruin the pleasure. The sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains giving the room a subtle glow. It didn't take me long to realize I was alone and there was a large empty spot beside me where the remainder of the bed sheets I adored so much were left in a tangled mess. His clothes from the night before were strewn over the desk chair and there was no note in sight to hint where he had gone.
I didn't think much of it. Hell, it wouldn't be smart to think much of it. Dallas did what he pleased when he pleased, and there was no use in worrying about that.
It took me longer than it should have to get up. I carefully unwrapped myself from the blanket, grunting with each layer I peeled off. The room was cold with the window cranked open and my cheeks a bright red color. I didn't look in the mirror, I could only assume, the way my fingers nearly sizzled when I touched them. I also assumed I was a haggard mess since I'd forgotten to take off any makeup before drunkenly crawling into bed with Dallas. I was at least eased at the fact that Dallas was much, much, more inebriated than me.
I loved Dallas. Hell, I really did. I'd had my doubts, and I'd tried to push the thought so far back that it was painful. He didn't have to know and neither did anybody else. But I loved him for him. Not for myself.
I thought nobody in the universe would remember the precise amount of steps it took to reach a convenience store. Anybody else would see the futility of it, not the pleasure. Nobody would hang around a man nearly quadruple their age to make not only me happy, but them too. He liked Hanson. He really did. I could see it in his drunken, hooded eyes.
He mumbled when he slept. I could seldom make out words in the hour it took me to fall asleep after him. They were mostly inaudible, little blubbers, and after rolling him onto his side and resting my forehead on his back, I fell asleep to the sound of his drunken slurs. It was shockingly soothing.
I was disappointed but also relieved to see that empty spot. I wanted to wake up next to him, laugh and tease him about his lightweight tendencies. But I wasn't sure if he fully remembered the weight of the words he'd said. How much it filled my heart to hear it coming from him. I didn't know, and I sure as hell wasn't about to ask.
Shuffling my feet onto the floor, I finally rose from the bed and stretched my arms high in the air. His small room had a sort of stagnant, musty smell, but I didn't mind it. God knows I wasn't staying at a five-star hotel. It had a cozy feeling, something you wouldn't expect from somewhere Dallas lived. If clothes weren't thrown all over the floor it would have been perfect.
I sorted around in the myriad of Dallas's clothes to find mine from the night before. When I went back home looking like a drunken, hot mess, with my clothes from the night before I knew Steve wouldn't be so ecstatic. But if I went back in Dallas's clothes, there would be hell to pay. So I stripped from his giant white shirt and slipped on my smaller, tighter one, and squeezed into my jeans that hugged my hips but hung loosely on my legs.
