He lives alone so we go to his place. He says he likes it that way, not having a roommate, I say it all works out cause we couldn’t go to my place. At my place is my roommate, my boyfriend’s best friend, so I wait until he’s in the shower to leave.
He picks me up in a silver sports car. I blush when I see it. I know I’m too smart to care about trivial things like cars so I don’t mention it at all when I get in. He doesn’t mind. He just wants to pick my brain.
We make small talk about our religion, our exes. Whether we like kids or animals. He clears his throat when I say I don’t like either and plays a CD of his own music. I gush over his voice and piano skills and make smart comparisons between his work and Fiona Apple’s.
I catch him staring at me. I look at him and his face darts forward. I smile. I bite my nail and wonder what my boyfriend is doing right now. I let out a sigh. He puts his hand on my thigh when we pull into a well-lit apartment complex and I forget everything.
It’s your typical Atlanta apartment complex, crowded and surrounded by pine trees. We park and get out. The air is so humid. This is sweating weather I say over the crickets. He smiles as he opens the door to his apartment.
Inside we sit on his futon and watch re-runs of The Simpsons. He sits so close you would think we were in love. He mentions the heat when I take off my jacket, and I kiss him. Rough at first, then soft like a pillow. We take our time. I like to remember the first time. I trace the outline of his tattoos with my fingertips.
We romp like wrestlers and then he cums and holds me. He falls asleep quickly while I stare up at the ceiling. I unwrap myself out of his arms and put on my clothes. I let myself out and walk to the bus stop on the corner. On the ride I make up my mind to go to my boyfriend’s apartment. I hate to sleep alone.
When I get to my boyfriend’s house I bam on the door until I hear the doorknob. He opens it and stands there in his boxers, rubbing his eyes.
“Trevor?” He says.
“I wanted to see you,” I said, locking the door behind me.
I follow him to his bedroom where he falls asleep as soon as he hits the bed. The light from the TV makes the room look blue. I remember reading blue rooms make you depressed. I take off my shirt, then pants, then shoes and get in the bed. I stay close to the edge away from him. He rolls over in his sleep and molds onto me.
“Baby,” I whisper holding his hand. He’s fast asleep so he doesn’t answer.
“Baby,” I call out louder. I nudge him softly.
“Baby,” I say loud this time and with a strong push to the shoulder.
He opens his eyes.
“What?” He asks still half-asleep.
“I love you I say.”
He smiles. “I love you too,” he says and kisses me on the lips.
“I love how you smile. How when you’re tired you hunch your shoulders and wrinkle your forehead like an old man. I love your brown eyes. How you get your hair cut every Wednesday at 2:30.”
“It’s Thursday at 3:30,” he says and laughs. He closes his eyes.
“I have to tell you something.”
He opens his eyes and stares at me.
I stare into his eyes until he falls asleep.
“I’ll tell you in the morning,” I say and kiss him on the forehead.