Once More

          He would call me on Tuesday morning to wake me up, probably about noon. I casually forgot to mention that I set my alarm for earlier anyway, I just wanted to hear his husky voice over the phone. He always sounded just a little sexier right after waking up. And Tuesday morning was taking forever to come because Monday night just wouldn't end. I had fallen asleep around 3 am but woke up every other hour from a dream with him in it. My father wandered in to open my blinds and windows at 9 am, prompting me to kick him out and lock my door, of course undoing what he had just done so that I could fall back asleep. My alarm was set for 10:45, solely because I knew, oh I knew, that I wouldn't be out of bed until 11:30.
         After hitting snooze on my cellphone's alarm clock three times, I finally hit 'dismiss' and ended the torture of hearing "heartbreaker, dream maker" wailing from the phone's speaker. I laid in bed, awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering why noon was taking so long to come. After rolling out of bed and wandering around my room for a bit, my phone went off, "Tears Don't Fall" by Bullet For My Valentine blaring throughout the room. Seeing that it was him, I quickly answered as calmly as possible. It was only 11:39, he called early.
         Our conversation was short, but he said he'd be there around noon, 12:15. Fine by me, I still hadn't showered or made myself look remotely presentable. And this was my ex; my 6'2", soccer-playing, drop dead gorgeous ex who I simply hadn't been able to get out of my mind for the month we had been broken up. Thinking of this as I showered, I made sure to shave extra well. He had a bad tendency to tickle me, throw me over his shoulder, and bite. Oh, how he bit...
         My shower finally ended and I went about the business of putting make up on carefully (not so little that I looked sloppy but not so much I looked like an overdone porn star). I even depolished my toenails and trimmed them because I knew I'd be running around barefoot. While doing so, I reminisced about the last time he and I had slept together. It was about a week after we had broken up and we were celebrating some asinine event. For whatever reason, I had been wearing a turquoise summer dress and had picked him up after we had gotten home from dinner. We barely stayed upstairs long enough to talk. I had been as nonchalant as possible around him at work and he had apparently found it irresistible because he had pulled me over after work and asked if we could spend time together, that he'd call me, so on and so forth. During the car ride I remained stoic and unopinionated, leaving him with the impression that I was pissed. After repeatedly telling him that I wasn't he put his arm around me and pulled his "charm" routine. Of course I fell for it, I was a soon-to-be high school graduate and he was a 22-year-old about to finish off college at a remotely distant University in the fall. We had started talking the beginning of that year, and by mid-May had dated and broken up but still obviously remained close. However, the sex was different that night. I tried to remain as uninterested as possible but he began to tickle me, knowing exactly where it drove me crazy. I ended up in a rather compromising position, breathing hard and staring eachother down. Needless to say, the lovemaking that ensued was rather rough.
         Accidentally driving the nail clipper into the soft nailbed of my toenail, I cried out of my thoughts as my eyes began to water. Finishing up and heading back to change into a lacy white cami and brown loose capris from Aeropostale, I glanced at the clock on my phone, surprised to see that I had received a text message from him, saying that he couldn't make it until 1. Completely fine by me, considering I still wasn't finished getting ready and it was almost 1pm anyway by the time I had retrieved the message. After finishing primping, I headed downstairs to chill on the couch with my grandmother, who was watching television intently. I reminded her that he was coming over shortly, and she shrugged, noncaring. Gradually, time passed and 1:20 rolled around. I texted him a quick "where are you?" and he called in response, telling me he'd be there in 5 he was coming down the mountain.
         Excitedly, I waited, unable to pay attention to the movie on television. Something had sparked in me when he and I had spent the afternoon together a couple days before. We had gone for coffee and were about to go for cigarettes when my car's transmission blew and we had to sit in the summer heat for an hour, joking around and flirting. He had recently broken up with a tramp from work who he had mistakenly dated for a week or two and apologized multiple times for the ridiculous behaviour that he had been displaying. At first I wasn't sure I wanted to accept the apology, afraid that he was just looking for action. He had assured me that he wasn't looking for that as well, before I even needed to voice the question. Again, I was broken from these wandering thoughts as my phone rang. He was pulling into my driveway.
         I headed out, feeling my heartbeat quicken. Oh god, he looked good. And he smelled of his fabulous cologne and cigarettes; probably my favorite scent in the world. We headed inside, joke/flirting and making eye contact way too often. He seemed unsure of how to act. It was such a familiar feeling, being in my house with him. But every other time we had been talking, dating, or sleeping together so it was awkward, him coming in as just a friend. But conversation flowed better than it had near the end of our relationship and we headed downstairs to play Guitar Hero and drink iced chai tea.
          The incessant teasing and joking continued as he played a song first, rather poorly. I found myself wishing I had kissed him the other afternoon in the car. We had a moment then, when our eyes locked and...
         "Alright smartass, let's see what you've got," he grinned and commanded, handing me the guitar. I kicked him out of the chair he was sitting in and took over, playing an easier song than his remotely well. But out of the blue my cellphone vibrated from the cedar chest behind me. I asked him to check who it was from, thinking it may be from the guy I had been talking to and sleeping with but was getting rather sick of, ironically another ex of mine. He refused and hurrying to finish the song, I cursed him under my breath. He laughed and continued prodding me and shoving the guitar so that I'd mess up. I couldn't stop laughing, feeling more comfortable around him than I did around some of my close friends. Finally, my song ended and I got up to check who the text was from. The screen read "Phill" and I looked over at him, confused. Why the hell had he texted me when he was sitting right behind me? He held this amused and triumphant look on his face so I slid the phone open and read the message, proceeding to hit him hard in the stomach afterward. It read "worst guitar player ever but u don't look bad sucking at it", leaving me with a half-excited, half-uneasy feeling in my stomach. My eyes screamed "oh come, KISS ME ALREADY" but my mouth responded differently.           We proceeded to hit eachother, myself with more force than him, until he flipped me over his shoulder and threw me down onto the couch. He then proceeded to bite my upper arm hard, leaving me breathless with laughter and fighting against him to push him off. He grinned and in an attempt to wipe that off his face I bit down as hard as i could on his arm, leaving a very obvious mark. He pushed me against the back of the couch and aimed to bite for my shoulder, but when I moved only an inch he tilted his head up and bit at my neck, rolling his tongue slowly around as he made his way up. Oh god, finally! My heart was pounding as I moaned quietly in response, wrapping my right leg around his left. He pulled away and we stared at eachother again, both unwilling to make the move. Finally, I tilted my head in slightly and his lips met mine in a crushing, passionate embrace. I ran my fingers up the back of his head, raking my bitten nails through his hair roughly. This was incredible, his lips were perfect against mine and I couldn't get enough of them! Eventually we pulled away, breathing hard and our eyes locked.
          "I guess there's still some chemistry between us," he chuckled, his hands pressing against my lower back. I nodded and let a nervous giggle escape. Before I could think anything else his lips were on mine again, his tongue exploring a mouth he had forgotten.

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