Something Real


“Tell me something real.”

He rolled back over to face her, trying to push off sleep so he could listen to her. “What?” he mumbled.

“Tell me something real.” Her face was inches from his now, smiling at him. He blinked a few times to focus on her, the deep blue of her eyes, her tousled hair, her bare shoulders peeking from beneath the top sheet.

“Okay… what goes up must come down.”

“Seriously,” she said, the smile momentarily disappearing from her face. She couldn’t get a read on him, if he was joking, too tired to answer or being obnoxious.

He propped himself up on his elbow to face her, seeing she wasn’t smiling anymore. He reached over and brushed a hair from the front of her face. His left hand slowly reached for the top sheet moving it down. He ran his left hand up her bare thigh to just above her hip near her waist and lightly rubbed a slow circle. She sighed as he touched her, knowing he knew it was one of her favorite places to be touched.

“Something real,” he whispered, as if pondering the question as he touched her.

“Yes,” she purred, closing her eyes, inching even closer to him, her lips close to his.

“What’s real is this simple moment, here with you, right now. It’s almost as if nothing else exists. All that’s real is me laying here with you, looking not just into your eyes, but into you, and knowing I could just look like this forever.”

She opened her eyes and smiled again, moved in and kissed him deeply. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He put his arm around her and held her close. He glanced over at the alarm clock.

“It’s 11:11,” he said. “Make a wish.” He closed his eyes and held her on his shoulder.

“I don’t have to.”

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