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A boy is sleeping next to Jill in her bed. His heart thumps quietly and there’s an eyelash on his cheek. He still smells like the perfume she spritzed on him at the store earlier that day—a scent like toasted honey and orange blossoms.
They had woken up earlier that morning to check out the farmer’s market. Then they ended up exploring most of the city square: trying out lavender coffee from a new cafe and finding a graphic novel Clive’s been searching for at a comic shop. It’s a 10-minute walk back to Jill’s house, and they meant to only briefly rest before leaving again, but the jet lag had finally caught up to Clive. When he told her he only wanted to rest his eyes for a few minutes, Jill said okay, and then didn’t wake him when more than a few minutes passed.
She will in a little bit. There are still enough hours in the day, and days in the week before they have to get up. For now, Clive is here, a physical presence, and not a voice fighting through the static and shaky connection of her laptop’s speakers.
Jill leans up on her elbow so she can look down at him better. His hair is still damp from his morning shower, the ends curling on the pillow, and she twists a strand around her finger. Almost a year ago, they didn’t know the other existed. Two online strangers from different countries, with hours-long time difference, became close friends before turning into—
(She likes calling him her boyfriend because it makes her feel bubbly inside— like she’s living out the giddy part of her teen years she never experienced. She likes calling him her significant other because it reminds her how a few years from now he’ll be her husband.)
“. . . Jill?” Clive’s face scrunches as he groans, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his bones. His shirt lifts as he does, revealing his navel. A bruise lies next to it, the same one she sucked into his skin after getting carried away when they were only supposed to cuddle their first night together.
“Hey, you.” She uncurls his hair from her finger and uses her whole hand to brush his hair back. Clive reaches up and clasps their fingers together, resting her hand on his cheek. The stubble pricks her skin. “Did I wake you?”
“Mm, no. Didn’t mean to sleep like that,” he sighs, smiling at her. His eyes are a deeper shade of blue than what the photos and their video calls were able to show. Everything about him somehow looks better in person, as if she’s only been looking at a standard version of him, and now she gets the 8K resolution of Clive. She hasn’t stopped staring at him since his arrival, and the same can be said of him toward her. His gaze makes her neck pink no matter what.
“You’re obviously tired,” she says, feeling the blush spread to her ears despite her insistence that she’s not shy. “I wanted you to get your rest.”
“If I sleep too much I’ll be up all night,” he says, still not letting go of her hand. Jill holds back how she knows a few activities they could do at night if he can’t sleep. “I don’t want to waste our time together. I know there are places you wanted to show me, and I’m meeting your family at some point.”
“It’s not wasting time.” Jill lays back down so she’s comfortable, bringing her face close to Clive’s. Without thinking, she leans over and kisses the bridge of his nose. “We’re meeting my family later this week. And the other stuff is whatever. We don’t have to do anything, really. I just want to spend time with you. Even if it’s lying in bed like this.”
She knows he’s going to crack a joke before a smirk forms on his face. “Just this in bed?”
He’s just as cheeky in person as he is online, but now she can see how fast and how red his face burns when he’s trying to be playful. Jill kisses his nose, then remembers she can kiss him as much as she wants now, and she starts on his jaw, the edge of his brow, the silver piercing in his ear— everywhere but his mouth— until he chuckles and the redness spreads. He lets go of her hand and drifts his fingers down to her waist, pressing into her pale skin. Clive moves his mouth closer to hers and Jill stays still until they touch, warm and plush, remnants of the coffee lingering on his tongue.
She can do this as much as she wants. She can do a lot of things with Clive. Jill shifts until she can wrap her arms and knees around him, smiling at the way his chest rumbles when he hums.
Her lips are pressed against his when she asks, “Can we stay like this a little longer? And then we can get up.”
Calloused hands creep under her blouse but they don’t move any further. The sweetness in her stomach is seconds away from burning up and turning into a deep ache. She tightens her hold on him to get closer.
“Of course,” Clive mumbles, teeth scraping her bottom lip. “Whatever you want.”
This honeymoon period can only last so long. Eventually, Clive’s trip will come to an end and he’ll have to go back home. Jill doesn’t how how hard the emotions will hit her when she has to say goodbye, but she knows she’s already dreading it. She doesn’t know how long it’ll be before they can see each other again— if it’ll be a year or two from now or if she’ll be the one to go see him.
She doesn’t want to be separated again, but then Clive kisses her (her first good kiss. A kiss from the only person she’ll ever want), and Jill tells herself she won’t always have to worry.
It’ll be her and Clive in the end. Someday, they won’t have to leave each other, and she’ll always have him sleeping next to her in bed.