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“I can’t believe you bought this!”.
Holding a brand new paperback copy of The Fifth Sorceress by this guy called Robert Newcomb in her right hand, Kim brought her left palm on her lips to contain a loud and contagious laughter; sitting on her side of the bed – he would do that sometime, as cheesy as it sounded, he really just liked to lay his head on her pillow and let her familiar scent remind him of her, especially when she came home from work super late – Jimmy really tried his best to look deeply wounded by her accusation that he had, in fact, an awful taste in books. It was all completely in vain, of course: how could he even fathom to sulk and make a long face when she was there in front of him, wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his and his boxers – she’d taken a liking to steal his undies, especially when they showered together – and rolling between the rustling sheets, a big, lovely, genuine smile on her beautiful lips?
There were things much more important than pretending he had any literary taste.
He crossed his arms on his chest. “Listen, it was a truck stop and I only had five dollars, so it was either this or some classic”, he whined, as she nodded sarcastically at every new word coming out of his mouth like she knew exactly how full of shit he was – and she really did, all the time.
“So pick a classic!”, Kim exclaimed, chuckling, clearly still messing with him. After all those months of feeling like she had been slipping through his fingers, Jimmy couldn’t ask for anything better than to be teased and ridiculed like that; to be scamming people together literally so they could help those morons – present company excluded – at Mesa Verda building bigger horrible statues or whatever it was… just, really, to be spending time with the only person that mattered to him in the whole world.
We’re back, he couldn’t help but realize, and found himself smiling.
Suddenly, feeling his heart brimming with a giddiness he had been sure he was never going to experience again, and before she could add anything to her closing argument about all the countless books that were so clearly a better pick than The Fifth Sorceress, Jimmy moved towards her and, grabbing her waist, he got on top her and crashed his lips on hers; Kim immediately cupped his cheek and happily responded, an urgency in her need for him that was always going to amaze him.
I love her so much.
He promptly halted and stared at her, struck by her beauty. It wasn’t just the sweet expression of glee plastered on her swollen lips, or the tender curve of her breasts, or that look in her deep, blue eyes – that look that said that, for whatever fucked up reason, she wasn’t going to let go of him.
It’s the fact that she’s the smartest person I know, but also the kindest. That she smiles against my lips when she kisses me. That she can be cunning and ruthless, but no one comprehends justice like her – and no one goes and gets it quite like her. That she takes my hand when she knows I need to be comforted. That she’s often overlooked, when she’s usually the most capable person in the room. That she makes the best, silliest jokes. That she sides with the little guy. That she loves me unconditionally, and lets me love her right back, in spite of everything, in spite of myself.
“Yeah, and read about the delightful, cheerful life of Anna Karenina on the way back from Coushatta. Not depressing at all”, he retorted and, as he placed another soft kiss on her mouth, he took his book from her hands. Bewitched her with my charm, he thought, not without a smidge of self-mockery, and went back to sit with his back against the pillows – on his side of the bed, this time, a strategic choice he made so she could snuggle right beside him… which happened to be exactly what she did, without even uttering a single syllable – they knew each other that well. Her skin felt like the softest, most exquisite silk against his rising and falling chest, and her faltering breath tickled sweetly the crook of his neck and his unshaven cheek, and Jimmy held her tightly, as if she was the anchor keeping him steady, safe from the crashing waves of the storm raging inside him. One hand kept the awful novel in front of him, the other grazed her hair, playing lazily with it – the locks almost looked golden in the shower of yellow light infiltrating in their bedroom from the shutters. Underneath the sheets, she idly shifted her weight, untangling her legs from his and letting her foot graze his calf, as she left a light kiss on his cheek.
“So… how is it?”, she finally asked, half a smile on her face.
Without saying a word, he sighed deeply, as if the question needed serious, grave pondering; then he squeezed her shoulder gently and looked directly into her eyes. “Oh, it’s bad”, he finally emphatically proclaimed, and Kim started laughing, her breath tickling the skin of his chest. “Like… Piranha II bad”, he added, and she snorted, burying her face in the crook of his neck and nuzzling it with her nose, “Or like… Jaws 3-D bad”.
Kim jokingly punched his upper arm. “Shut up, you love Jaws 3-D”.
Conceding, Jimmy threw his arms up. “Alright, alright”, he chuckled, “There are gnomes here, so, you might be right, clearly this is a whole new level of bad…”.
It all felt so right, so natural, Jimmy wanted to cry – all those months they had lost on the way, while she was rightly busting her ass for Mesa Verda making a name for herself and he was… well, not being the best version of himself, to put it mildly. For a second, he couldn’t help but imagine what Chuck would have said about him, about her, if he could have seen them now: that Jimmy had ruined her, that he was trying to drag her in the mud with him, that just when she was finally slipping from his grasp he had captured her once again, preventing her from flying away like she should’ve. It was nothing more than an instant, though: the delicate pressure of Kim’s fingers playing with his chest hair was more than enough to push away any memory of Chuck, replaced by the overwhelming intensity of that moment and… her. All of her. Yes, he wanted to cry, but instead, all he could do was look at her and smile like an idiot, as if he had completely forgotten how to do anything else.
“Read to me?”, she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper, “Doing the voices?”.
He didn’t need to be asked twice.