Down and Out

I lie awake, staring at the empty side of my bed where Savannah sat not even an hour ago. My bed seems colder, lonelier without her in it and right now I’m kicking myself for agreeing that she should sleep on the couch.
Because right now it’s after midnight, and that means it’s tomorrow. Our date’s officially over, so it doesn’t matter if I can’t keep my hands or a certain other appendage to myself.
Sighing, I roll onto my back.
I miss her.
She’s in the next room and I miss her.
I touch my fingers to my lips as I stare at the dark ceiling. They’re still humming with electricity from that kiss that wasn’t really a kiss. It was the best non-kiss I’ve ever had. She has the softest damn lips I’ve ever had the privilege of coming into contact with, and I plan on becoming very well acquainted with them.
After another round of tossing and turning, I look at the door, debating on whether or not to just get up and go out there.
Is she sleeping right now? Or is she lying awake like me?
If she’s awake and I go out there, I know where things will most likely end up. And as much as I want to go that route, I probably shouldn’t. I’m still pretty sore. I should let myself heal a little more, but I’ll be damned if I let that stop me if it comes down to it. I’d push through any amount of pain to be with her and I’d love every second of it.
But if she’s sleeping, well that’d be okay with me too. I’ve only gotten to watch her sleep for a minute at the most. It wasn’t nearly long enough. She looked so peaceful, and so f*cking beautiful.
I freeze as an unsettling realization comes over me: I’m excited about the prospect of watching her sleep. That’s weird, right? I mean, that can’t be normal.
Groaning, I bury my face in my pillow, but just wind up getting assaulted with her scent. It doesn’t help.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve known this chick for days and yet she’s somehow managed to knock my whole world off its axis. Now the damn thing’s spinning out of control. I should be pissed about that, but I’m not. Instead, I constantly find myself thanking whatever greater power’s at play for bringing her into my life, because it’s better with her in it.
So much better.
I was living in the present before Savannah came along—from moment to moment, fight to meaningless f*ck. The future has always been a tentative thing for me and I’m reluctant to think about it, but Savannah’s got me thinking about next week, next month, next year. . .
Every time my mind goes there, she’s with me. I can’t envision a future without her and I don’t want to, because that would mean she’s out there somewhere, not with me, and that just won’t do.
I want to make Savannah happy. I want to take care of her. Lord knows she deserves it, and I would be f*cking honored if she entrusted me with that responsibility.
This girl’s got me thinking about things I’ve never even considered before. Scary things, like cuddling on the couch while watching crap TV. A poufy white dress. Vows. Rings. Sharing a last name. Chubby little babies with gray eyes, who are just as stubborn as their momma.
My future is here, and she’s in the next room.
Eventually I decide not to go out there. If I see her face one more time tonight, I’m done. There’s only so much of me that can fall before the rest comes tumbling with it, and I know if I go out there, I’ll fall ass over feet in love with the mean, loud, disagreeable girl sleeping on my couch.
It’s too soon for that. I mean, we’ve just had our first date. I can’t go falling in love with her on our first date. That’s rushing things. That’s crazy. Besides, I’m the one who made a big fuss about waiting, so that’s what I’ll do. I’ll wait until our next date.
All bets are off on our next date.