Sunny must come to this place a lot, because the wait staff seem to know her. She introduces me to a bunch of people, but I can’t keep their names straight, and my usual nicknames don’t work since they’re all the same variety of granola. She also doesn’t call me her boyfriend. She doesn’t call me anything other than my name, but we sit on the same side of the table instead of across from each other, and she snuggles into my side. That says a lot more than a title.
Later, when we get back to her house, we watch a movie. Naked. Well, there isn’t much watching after the first fifteen minutes, but it was fun while it lasted, and even more fun afterward. When Sunny falls asleep on the couch, I raid the fridge. I don’t find much aside from healthy options and rice or almond milk. I think I’ve hit the jackpot when I check the freezer and find it full of baked goods. Sadly, all the lids have those red circles with the line through them covering the face of a stick man eating the contents. There’s also a pot leaf on there. It must be Sunny’s dad’s research. He works for a medical marijuana lab, perfecting strains. He’s insanely smart. Apparently Sunny likes to help with the baking part of that. I call a local pizza shop and order myself a snack.
Sunny wakes up as I’m polishing off my midnight meal. A pile of cleaned-off chicken wing bones sits next to the Styrofoam container. Sunny stretches, and the blanket I’ve covered her with falls so her nipples peek out.
“What’re you doing?”
“Staring at your boobs.”
She blinks blearily, pulling the blanket up to cover the goods and leans forward to inspect what’s in my bowl. Her nose crinkles in that cute way that tells me she’s grossed out. “Your bowl is an animal graveyard.”
“It’s delicious, though.”
“You like a box of death for a snack?”
“It sounds way less appealing when you say it like that.”
She stands, dropping the blanket on the floor. “I’m going to bed.”
I drop the last bone in the bowl. “Hold on. I’m coming, too.”
“You can’t leave those there.” She points to the death bowl. “Andy will eat them and be sick.”
I rush to clean them up as she heads for the stairs.
Tonight’s the last night we get to sleep together. Tomorrow morning she’s leaving on that stupid road trip. I need to make sure I’m on her mind while we’re apart. I don’t try for sex again; I go for a snuggle instead. Sunny falls asleep wrapped around me, her warm cheek on my chest.
***
I wake up to terrible, humid breath in my face. I crack a lid to find Andy’s nose an inch away from mine. “Hey, buddy. You need a mint.” I roll over, but Sunny’s side of the bed is already empty. It’s only seven in the morning, still early, but she’s leaving in a couple of hours, so I drag myself out of bed, throwing off the heavy hands of sleep. I don’t bother with boxers. My plan is to find her and use my morning wood to my advantage.
When I reach the stairs, I’m hit with the sweet smell of cinnamon. Sunny can bake, as evidenced by the treats in the freezer. Her cookies are the best. I snicker as I take the stairs down to the kitchen. Now that I’ve eaten her cookie, I have all kinds of dirty baked-goods jokes. Unfortunately, it’s another one of those things I can’t share with the guys.
I find her in the kitchen. Her hair is still in the same braid from last night, except it’s a mess. The sun streams in the window over the sink where she’s rinsing fresh fruit, the light catching the fine blond flyaways, creating a halo. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top, and she’s braless.
She doesn’t notice me right away, so I lean against the doorjamb to watch her. She hums along to the radio as she peels peaches. I wish she wasn’t leaving this morning.
I circle around behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. It would be so easy to get her naked and get inside her right on the counter. She gasps, and at first I think it’s out of surprise, but then I notice the fine line of blood welling across the pad of her index finger.
“Ah, shit, Sunny. I’m sorry.” I shimmy us over to the sink, turn on the tap, and adjust the water temperature. When it’s cold I put her hand under the stream. So much for a good-morning surprise.