Dove
I woke up feeling worn out in the best way.
Benecio had made sure of that a few hours ago.
The bed was still warm where he'd been. The sheets smelled like him and me and that eucalyptus and jasmine I'd put in the diffuser last night. I should've gotten up when he did. Should've showered while the water was still hot. But afterwards, I was too sleepy. Too soft. Too full of him to move.
He was probably downstairs now. Setting fire to my kitchen.
I was still mad at him. Of course I was.
Who just gets up at 2am and runs off to an airport? Who makes their boyfriend look like an accomplice? Mr. Billie texted me at 6am: 'Is Benecio alive?'
I texted back immediately. 'Yes sir. I'm sorry. If I had known he was going to do that I would've talked him out of it.'
Mr. Billie replied five minutes later: 'Not your fault, mijo. That boy is a hard-headed piece of work. Tell him Pa says he's grounded from the jet for a month.'
I laughed into my pillow. Then I sighed.
