The Morning After

I can feel the sun seeping in through the blinds, a soft glow slowly waking me up, but it feels like the rays are burning through my eyelids. I lay still in my bed for a couple of minutes, eyes closed, pretending like I had just taken a nap on a random beach somewhere tropical. For a second, I can almost hear waves crashing on the shore. I’m quickly jolted out of my daydream when my comforter shifts slightly, and the mattress dips to my left, a sudden reminder that I am not alone in my bed. An arm slings over my waist, and what was a warm and endearing embrace last night now feels like a thick belt that I’ve buckled too tight. I try not to move in fear of waking him, but he unconsciously turns over on his side to face me. Without trying, I’m pulled tight against his body. Damn this memory foam mattress.

            My head pounds and my stomach turns. The aftertaste of last night cakes the back of my throat, my mouth dry. I peel my eyes open, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the light bleeding through the window. I take in the state of my room: clothes strewn everywhere, my blankets lying in a pile on the ground, my purse spilled open on my dresser. Keys, wallet, mints all on display. I guess cleaning yesterday was a futile and wasted chore. My water bottle sits innocently on my desk, and I curse my past self for not remembering to put it closer to my bed.

I roll over onto my right side facing away from him with the guise of spooning, but my focus is on reaching my phone. I strain my arm from the middle of the bed to my nightstand, trying to not disturb my overnight guest’s slumber. With my fingertips, I drag my phone to the edge of the nightstand and let out a quiet breath of relief when I’m able to unplug it from the charger. 7:45 AM. Only fifteen minutes before my alarm goes off. I have a silent debate in my head over whether I should turn it off or not. The rational side of my conscious tries to convince me to leave the alarm on. I had the chivalry of letting him stay the night and then some—he has to abide by my time now. But the sentimental, yearning side of me drowns out any logical arguments. When was the last time I enjoyed the company of a warm body? Also, it was a Sunday morning. I could learn to slow down and sleep in.

            Against any better judgment, I allow myself to snuggle closer into his embrace, relishing in the feeling of his chest rising and falling with deep breaths against my back. I close my eyes, willing myself to fall back asleep. I try to ignore how bright it is even with my eyes closed and my right shoulder which was quickly losing feeling from being laid on for an extended time. It feels like ages pass by before I find myself drifting away into a state of unconsciousness, but a twitch of the arm around my waist, tightening his hold on me, jerks me out of limbo. Whatever dream he was having brought me back to the present. I resist the urge to make any sudden movements to “accidentally” wake him up and decide to remain still for a couple of minutes. My eyes open again. Cars pass by my window, and birds begin to chirp as the world slowly starts to wake up. I check the time again. 8:13 AM.

             By some miracle, I manage to fall back asleep but am suddenly brought back to reality by an obnoxious buzzing. A low grumble comes from my left side as he also begins to wake up. My alarm. I scramble to snooze it only to find my phone silent and still on my pillow. 9:00 AM. The blaring continues, coming from the far end of my nightstand. His alarm. I fling his arm off me, sitting up to grab his phone and toss it to him. Maybe it was more of a chuck. He sits up in bed, letting out a low curse under his breath. I watch as he turns the alarm off and I’m immediately renewed with hope that it is time to start the day.

            Never mind that.

            He sets a timer for one hour before reaching over me to put his phone back on the table. As he returns to his side of the bed, he gently but firmly pulls me back into his side. I guess that was as much of a “good morning” as I was going to get. With no energy to resist and my body feeling like lead, I allowed myself to be dragged back under the comfort of my covers. We settle back into a cuddle, spooning in the center of my bed.

I feel him against me, slightly pressing into my backside, a subtle but clear question through body language. I don’t move, pretending as if I’ve already fallen back asleep. No words are spoken, but his question is answered loudly. He buries his face into my neck, sighing heavily before going quiet and falling back asleep. Slowly, I shift onto my back, open my eyes, and stare at the ceiling. His arm is back around my waist, keeping me in my place. I do my best to ignore the way his hot breaths heat up the left side of my face. My eyes close again, but I knew sleep was a hopeless endeavor. My head pounds, my stomach turns, and I begin counting down in my head. 58 more minutes.