Morning Tattoo

She rolled over and kept her eyes shut out of principle. The bed had stopped being comfortable about an hour ago but she didn’t feel like starting her day yet. She could hear him in the shower but she couldn’t remember him getting out of bed. He was always good at not disturbing her when he’d get up at an ungodly hour. She checked her phone for the time. 7:23, seven minutes until her alarm went off. She switched it off and rolled over again so her back was facing the room. She pulled the IKEA comforter around her even more. She wasn’t cold, she just wanted to keep out the day. She let her mind wander over what needed to be done today and what could be left for tomorrow.

She didn’t notice the water had shut off and the door was opening. He startled her when he crawled back into bed. He smelled clean. Old Spice and minty toothpaste. He wore his old gray shirt with the Batman logo on the chest. It was her favorite shirt of his and would often steal it from him. He didn’t mind. She looked good in it; she looked good in all of his t-shirts.

He had his arms wrapped around her and he pressed his wet hair to her bare shoulders. She let out a sound of protest and half-heartedly shoved him away. He kissed her where his wet hair had been and she made a sound of approval.

“Are you going to be able to get up in time?” he asked her while studying the contours of her neck. She used to be a morning person, waking up as early as 5 or 4 in the morning. But she stopped once she had a reason to stay up late at night.

“No promises,” she said. Her eyes were still closed but pulled him closer to her. He knew if she had her way, neither of them would leave the bed until noon. He didn’t deny the thought was appealing but he had class and so did she. He leaned above her and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’ve got to go,” he whispered. She turned and opened her eyes. They were tired and still had remnants of her eyeliner smudged underneath. They were hazel with a twinge of green in them. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him softly on the lips.

“Have fun,” she said. “I’ll meet you for lunch out in the courtyard, okay?” He kissed her again and got up to grab his shoes and bag. He looked back as she rolled over and her back faced the room once again. She was wearing a black tank top and he could plainly see the tattoo on her back shoulder. It was an intricate letter P with blacks and reds woven in and out of the letter. Her favorite novel was The Scarlett Letter. P stood for Proud, her own public sin.

“Love you,” she called without turning over.
“Love you too,” he said as he slipped out the door. 

Love you.

Mean it.