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“What’s wrong?”
Melissa asks from behind your back, just entering through the kitchen door. You’re sitting at the table, fingers randomly scrolling through your phone, not paying enough attention for anything.
“Nothing,” you answer. It comes out a little colder than you expected in your mind and Melissa’s steps come closer until she’s standing right next to you. Her eyes analyze your face, then your phone, where you’re still scrolling your social media.
“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” She always sees everything. She knew when you got home two hours ago, quiet and tired, changed into pajamas and disappeared in another room, away from her. She could see the anxiety waving from your body, the way you were desperately trying to focus on anything but couldn’t get there.
You don’t look at her. “Well, it is,” is all you have to say again, and you can feel her tensing up, that instant reaction of anger that Melissa always has.
“Alright,” she mumbles.
And then, because you are you, and things are always different with you.
“Nah, I don’t believe you.”
She’s being serious. Melissa moves closer and rests her hands at the table, trapping you in place and making it impossible for you to run away. A knot forms in your throat and you don’t know why.
You grab her arms to pull her away and stand up.
“Melissa, please,” you say softly. “I think I just want to lie down a bit.”
“You sit your ass right here and tell me what’s wrong or we're gonna have some real problems.”
That makes you stop. You look up at her and meet her expression, calm but curious, her eyes searching for some sign on your face. You laugh a little.
“You’re talking like my mom now.”
“Sorry, I was bluffing,” Melissa smiles and your heart settles for a second. “Wanna tell me now?”
You sigh. You had one more horrible day after a horrible week, and your expectations for Friday were high, counting down the minutes to snuggle up with Melissa and forget everything. But then, the moment you got home, it was as if your body went into survival mode and your mind couldn't relax; the idea of bothering Melissa with your problems became too much, as did everything around you.
“I’m overwhelmed. Tired.”
She nods.
“Did something specific happen?”
“No.”
“Come here.”
You fall into her, your face buried in her neck, and she wraps her arms around your body, her hands tightly around your back. Melissa turns her face and gently kisses your temple.
“Talk to me?” she asks. You nod silently, but without making any effort to lift your head and pull away from her. Melissa laughs in your hair and hugs you tighter. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”
She leads you by the hand down the hallway, and when you reach the bedroom, she sits on the bed, and you immediately find a place between her legs, seeking as much contact as possible. It's funny that just a few hours ago you were avoiding this reaction, but now that Melissa offers you a hug, it's impossible to refuse.
All you ever want is her.
Melissa adjusts you so you sit properly in her lap, your head resting on her chest. She runs her hand through your hair, kisses your face once more. She repeats the question, asks if you want to talk, but your mind wanders to a place full of peace and tranquility. She doesn't force an answer, just touches you the way you dreamed and lets you sink into her body.
“That’s nice,” you say.
She hums, “Is it?”
“Better than everything that happened these past few days.”
“Glad to hear that, hon.”
You don’t need much, really. Melissa is the only thing that exists in your world, even with her difficult personality and your insecurities, things work out in the best possible way because she's always willing to be the best version of herself that you deserve.
Another kiss on your forehead and you lift your head to find her mouth. Melissa hums again, this time happily against your lips, and you smile, opening your mouth to her.
That’s nice, yes. The only way to feel better, the only thing capable of putting you in your place.
She kisses for some time, enough time for you to feel like floating, a light growing in your stomach.
“Come on,” she pulls her face away from yours for a moment. “You feeling better?”
You give her another shy nod.
“Good,” she says. “I don’t want anyone down in this house.”
“Sorry,” you laugh. “It was just…”
“Too much?”
“Yeah, it was a hard week.”
“I know, baby.” She runs her fingers through your hair again, gently cupping your face as she speaks to you. Sometimes you feel like one of her students, being cared for with as much affection and attention as a child.
Melissa is such a special person, someone who loves you with such devotion that you could be an angel. The feeling is mutual, of course, because you look at her every day as if she were the whole sun and you a planet revolving around her.
Sometimes she wants to argue, and even then you feel love. Sometimes she wants to hold you until you forget the rest of the world, and nothing is better than that.
“Love you,” you whisper.
“Love you too.” She kisses you again, and again, and again.
Nothing tastes better than your girlfriend after a rough time.