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I can’t sleep.
That’s nothing new, though. What is new tonight is that this is happening when I’m not alone.
I usually sleep pretty damn well when a certain someone weighs down the other side of my bed, when a certain scent lingers in the air. But tonight, my mind is awake, and it's pushing my body to be, too.
Even though she’s here.
She’s here, there, everywhere. Her vanilla sweetens the air, her slow breaths pepper the silence, and her soft skin grazes me all over. The warmth reminds me that I’m not alone and that I should go the hell to sleep.
I’m trying. I’ve already breathed deep, counted sheep, and wiped my mind clean. But it keeps clouding up again, keeps storming with thoughts. And they’re so fragmented and fleeting that I can’t really make use of them.
I catch the friendly ones and piece them together in the dark. I think of the way she teased me over dinner and the way her brilliant hair glowed as we stood on the roof earlier. I hear her hiccuping laugh in my head—I kind of miss it already.
Suddenly, she feels too far away, even though she’s right next to me. I rope my arm around her and pull myself closer. Her soft skin no longer just grazes—it’s snug against mine, warming me more.
It feels good, but it’s still not enough.
Now, I feel a little selfish. What more could I possibly want? I’m in bed with her. She’s in my bed, wearing my shirt. The faded T-shirt she put back on after I all but tore it off a few hours ago.
In theory, I should be so satisfied that I fall asleep easily. I should sleep so hard that I could be mistaken for dead.
But my damn head is clinging on too tightly to life tonight.
God. I tighten my arm around her, shifting my body so that her head lies in the crook under my chin. I do this slowly, carefully.
But still, she stirs. And, to my dismay, she wakes. “Hm?”
Shit. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” I loosen my grip and press my lips to her head in apology.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Can’t sleep?”
“...Nope.”
She presses her body harder against mine and then raises her head. I feel her fingers slip just under the band of my shorts.
“More?” she asks.
“No, no.” I kiss her cheek and gently pull her wrist away. She gave me so much already and she’s half asleep now. I don’t need any more.
“You sure?” She wraps her hand around my hip, persistent.
I curl my body into her and take the hand into mine. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.”
Of course, she doesn’t take this as a satisfactory answer.
“What’s keeping you up?”
“Nothing. Just… thinking too much, I guess.”
“That’s my job.”
“I know.” I smile even though she can’t see it.
Dana’s hand travels upwards now, past my flank and to my shoulder. She pushes me gently onto my back. I let her. And then she hoists her torso up as her leg swings over mine.
“Stop thinking,” she says.
“Okay.” We both know that you can’t just stop thinking. But when she tells me something, I listen.
Now, she settles her body fully on top of mine, each dip and angle somehow aligning perfectly with my own. It’s true—we were made for each other. How else could we fit together like a jigsaw?
“No more thinking,” she whispers.
I give my human blanket another kiss. “No more thinking.”
She soothes me with her weight, with her existence. She pins me to the bed and gently commands me to Go to sleep, Monica. You’re alright.
Her soft face settles into the crook of my neck and now I think I am ready to sleep like I’m dead.
I place my hands on her back to secure her to me, to remind the universe that she’s mine and that nothing can ever take her away from me. This is one of the few things I can’t leave up to fate. I go where she goes and she goes where I go. Tonight, we are just going to sleep.
“You okay?” she asks, her voice tickling my skin.
“Yeah.”
She nuzzles my neck with the tip of her nose. “Good night.”
I kiss her head again. “Sleep tight.”
It isn’t long before she drifts away, before she slips back under. I feel her body go slack and her breath slow. But she’s not leaving me behind—she’s tugging me with her.
I’m patient for my turn. I lie here and breathe in the vanilla that has become my home. I rub gentle circles on the woman who has become my anchor. And I find comfort in all the truths that have become my reality.
No more thinking.
No more thinking. Right. This isn’t the time to think. It’s the time to feel.
And I feel so good. I feel warm and safe with my weighted blanket draped over me. I feel like I could never want anything more.
I feel sleepy.
I feel myself slipping under. I feel myself being set free.
I feel myself floating away to join her in the land of dreams.