Before I'd had the privilege of waking up beside Dallas, first thing in the morning was my least favorite time of the day.

I hated when my eyes were forced open by a perfectly angled sunbeam that just-so-happened to point directly through a crack in my blackout curtains, no thanks to a careless Nelly Furtado who liked to bat at the curtain skirts, knocking them to and fro. Or worse, when I'd be jolted out of sleep by my alarm clock before the sun came out at all. It was those few waking seconds of resurfacing to the land of the living, my consciousness underdeveloped and a bit hazy.

The first morning that summer that I had been lucky enough to wake up beside Dallas, who'd either skipped his morning run to stay with me between the sheets or returned afterwards, had been my favorite. He had a way of changing my perspective of things, even though it was never on purpose. First-Thing-in-the-Mornings could be tolerable, if he was involved.

To wake and, for only a few short seconds, lack awareness of where I am and what I'm doing, only to immediately recognize the breathing pattern beside me, or to catch a whiff of the familiar smell lingering in the blankets of the remnants of last night. That was what made mornings the nearest thing to pleasant. It was the only part of waking up the night after Dallas stayed over in my shoebox apartment that I looked forward to.

So why did I wake up alone?

My eyes adjusted to the light seeping in from the askew curtains before me. The bed was empty, save for me, and all remnants of Dallas's previously thrown about clothes were gone from the floor. I slumped a little, unsure of what to make of this feeling in my chest. Deciding to avoid jumping to conclusions, I dropped my feet to the carpet to investigate. He wouldn't leave me like this after our conversation, would he?

Surely, I deserved it. With how many times I spun back and forth with my own feelings, weaving a web of crippling uncertainty and trapping poor Dallas within the threads, he earned the right to change his mind, too. That didn't mean it hurt any less.

The bathroom was unoccupied, so I checked the living room after taking a piss. A hollow pit was starting to take form in my chest when he was nowhere to be seen in my apartment. I checked my phone, too, to no avail. Nelly Furtado gave me a look that said, I could have told you this would happen, from her perch on the sofa.

I sunk onto the couch and brought my knees to my chin, gnawing at the skin on my inner lip. Don't overthink this, Meek. Maybe he just had an early meeting he forgot to tell you about. I shook my head. He would tell me. Unsure of whether or not to call him at risk of appearing like a stage-three clinger, my fingers hovered over his name in my phone. We were boyfriends now. I was allowed to ask about his whereabouts after the most passionate night I'd ever had.

I threw my phone on the couch, feeling almost angry. At myself and at Dallas for making me feel this way.

Every single bone in my body, from the day Dallas kissed me on the beach, was sure I was too vulnerable to get into anything serious. In fear of getting hurt, I stayed true to that by shoving him away as much as I could. This was why. This was the insecurity that drained and exhausted me. I wanted nothing more than to be the careless, no-fucks-given Meek that I pretended to be, but it was under the surface where the truth liked to burrow. And the truth was that I was delusional and anxious.

I hardly noticed the single tear drop forming in the corner of my left eye when I heard the doorknob rattle. My eyes shot to the front door where the lock turned itself and then pushed open, revealing my boyfriend.

Let me just change my name to Big Baby and save myself the self-preservation.

"Why do you look like that?" Dallas paused at the door, kicking it shut behind him. He was dressed in his clothes from last night and holding two paper bags under one arm. "Did you think I— oh, no."

I laughed nasally, feeling like an utter idiot. He staggered to the kitchen to drop the bags onto the table and rushed over to me. I allowed him to smother me in his arms, kissing the side of my head. His clothes were freezing from the outside air, sending an unexpected shock over my skin.

"I wanted to make us breakfast but you literally have nothing but beer and Kraft singles, so I walked to that convenience store across the street," he said, voice slightly muffled by my unruly bed head. I hummed in response, the shame and guilt of overreacting rendering me mute. "You think I'd dip out after what you did to me last night? Yeah, fucking right. Give me a little bit of credit, Thomas."

I just turned in his arms and buried my face in his neck, inhaling the remnants of his leathery cologne. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm dumb."

"Dumb, but very endearing."

When I pulled back to look at his face, he was grinning at me, those little dimple indents in his cheeks never failing to spread warmth over my body. I kissed him once on the lips. "I think I should try therapy again," I said, the words coming out uncharacteristically confident despite the fact that they were spoken without me having even thought them. It may have just erupted as a knee jerk attempt at cracking a joke at my own expense, but there was truth to them, too.

"Really?" Dallas asked. "I've been thinking about it, too."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. "What for?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "No reason in particular. Phoebe recommended it and—oh, my God, I have to tell you something," his tone changed drastically from neutral to a higher pitched mischief. "You can't say anything, okay?"

"Okay?"

"Phoebe's pregnant. She told me yesterday," he said, an excited glint in his eye. "I can't keep secrets to save my life, so I figured you're the safest person I can tell other than Garrett."

I felt a smile tug at my lips for different reasons. I was happy for Erick and Phoebe, I loved watching my friends families grow and thrive. And I thought about the domesticity of one day meeting Dallas's best friend, Garrett, whom I've heard so much about but hadn't had the pleasure of knowing quite yet. Not to mention the fact that Dallas and I were now a united front, one that could hold secrets together and gossip about the little things.

"Is she excited?" I asked, fully aware of his absentminded hand on my thigh opening and closing over the skin.

"Yeah but I think Erick's more excited. She said he cried like a baby when they took the test," he laughed, eyes on me. "I'm excited to have another niece or nephew." I forgot sometimes that he was Aubrey's uncle. He was a stranger for the entire time I'd known her.

We chatted aimlessly about this and that while the ingredients for whatever breakfast he was planning sat on the counter. I liked that we could just fill the silence with nonsense, as if we didn't just conjoin again after a sloppy last few months. Like we'd been together forever.

I stared at the man before me. He truly was so handsome, it hurt. His sandy blonde hair wasn't as styled as it was yesterday, but he made an effort to leave the apartment this morning, a few stray pieces daring to kiss his forehead. His dark eyebrows always raised when he laughed, while the beautiful ocean blue eyes crinkled in some sort of delight. I wasn't sure I was even listening to what he was saying, just capturing every inch of his face in my memory in case things were too good to be true; in case this was all a dream. His face grew only slightly serious when he noticed my attention, my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

Dallas reached one hand to the bottom of my throat and, with one thumb, caressed my collarbone gently. I leaned into his touch, our eyes doing the talking. He leaned forward and I thought he'd kiss me, but instead his lips found the side of my neck. My eyes closed instantly, a wave of excitement and satisfaction rushing over my body.

"I love you," he said into my neck, his voice reverberant against my skin. "So much."

"I love you," I managed to say before his lips were on mine.

He kissed me strong, as if he were holding me up, as if I was a featherweight and he'd been training his whole life. My hands found his shoulders and I pushed his jacket off for better access to the muscles I dreamt about. I kissed him back while I ran my hands down his front and back up again, sliding the track of his biceps and eventually forearms, then repeated.

I blinked and I was back in the holy land, on his lap. He kissed down my neck once more, hands mimicking my actions and finger painting my back with his touch. Every single ghosting of his fingertips made my back arch, desperately filling the space between our bodies.

"I gotta—" Dallas tried to pull away but I dragged him back in with another kiss, my arms settling around his neck. He separated our lips. "I gotta make breakfast, baby." I shivered.

My head retreated just far enough so that I could look him in the eye. "Fine," I tutted and smirked just a bit, "but only if you do it naked."