26. Marsh

TWENTY-SIX

Marsh

Here's the thing you need to know about Data: the man has a beautiful snore.

It's a persistent hum with a little bit of wheeze thrown in for good measure. Kind of like the staticky breathing of astronauts in space, or astronauts practicing tantric sex. I wonder if the lack of gravity helps or hurts. Anyway, Data's snore is my personal sound machine, and I didn't realize how much I missed it until it was back in my life. No wonder I'd been sleeping like shit for the last six months.

I'm up, but I don't want to get out of bed. Data's arm is draped over me, his staticky astronaut tantric sex breath rustling against my shoulder. I could stay like this forever.

You can tell if you're meant to be with someone by how you sleep with them. Are you able to fall asleep and stay asleep with this person next to you? Sleep chemistry is real. I'd dated guys where I tossed and turned all night and kept thinking about how much I wanted them out of my bed so I could get some decent shut eye.

With Data, I slept like a baby from the jump.

"Good morning," he utters in a growly whisper as he pulls me against his warm teddy bear body.

"And good morning to you," I say back, grinding myself against his very good morning wood .

It feels good to have Data's hands on my body again. His fingers travel through the tiny wisp of chest hair God gave me. I feel like my naked, hairless body needs to come with ID.

"We can't stay in bed all day," he says.

"No. We mustn't," I agree, slipping into a British accent for no reason. I then burrow my bum further against his knob.

"We can't, Marsh. We have to finish packing and leave this afternoon before the storm comes."

"Do we?" I sit up. An idea that'd been kicking around in my head over the past day rushes out. "Do we really need to pack this place up?"

I study his face, trying to gauge his reaction. His big, dark eyes fill with hope and give me an idea.

"What are you saying, Marsh?"

"I think I made it clear last night. This whole weekend has been one big blinking light telling me that I made a huge mistake. To quote The Jackson 5 and NSYNC, I want you back, Data." I interlock my fingers with his.

"You really want to give things another shot?"

"No." I shake my head confidently. "I'm not giving this a shot. I'm not here for whims. I'm doing this for real. My life is pretty much incomplete without you, and it's very hard functioning as an incomplete human being. Not even the best coffee can help with that." I tip his chin up to meet my eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." Data bites his lips and I know he's holding something back, but I can't tell what it is.

"Talk to me."

He leans back on the solid oak headboard, which is the champion of West Elm headboards for handling all of our rigorous lovemaking without splintering into pieces. They really should market it that way.

"Well, you used to tell me you loved me all the time. Until you didn't. "

"I never stopped loving you, Data. Never. I just got scared. And embarrassed."

"Embarrassed? I am the last person you need to feel embarrassed around."

"You deserve?—"

He presses a hand over my mouth. I can tell this isn't one of those times to lick his fingers in protest.

"Nope. I decide what I deserve. I don't care that you're not headlining Madison Square Garden or doing stand-up specials on Netflix. What you do is a small part of who you are. Your job doesn't define you. Or shouldn't." His features suddenly go still and I can almost see the wheels turning in his adorable head. "You're smart, caring, funny. You're looking after your father in an impossible situation. Without being asked, you watered Mrs. Krumholtz's plants downstairs for a month when she was in the hospital. You're already a success to me."

Data frees my mouth from his clutches.

"I'm just trying to be the kind of man worthy of you."

"Well, I'd say you're doing a good job. Aside from the whole dumping thing."

I'll be kicking myself about that for years to come. Fear and self-loathing can make us do some really stupid things.

"You're pursuing your dreams, which most of us are too scared to do." Just as I'm about to chime in with my usual refrain, he presses his hand back against my mouth. "Until now."

He stares at the comforter bunched around us.

"I think it's time that I follow your lead. When I get back to the city, I am starting a job hunt." He pulls his lips in and nods. "I'm not sure what I want exactly, but for the first time in my life, I'm going to let myself decide."

"You can do anything. You're the smartest person I know."

"Didn't your cousin go to MIT?"

"Yeah, but he smells like cottage cheese. "

He breaks into a laugh. The kiss I plant on his lips is a promise. I'm not going to fuck this up again.

"To answer your original question," he says, his eyes glimmering with light. "No. We don't need to pack up Marshmallow Mountain."

I crash my lips against his and lower us back down onto the bed. "So that means we have the morning free … "

"Technically, that is true. Although now we have to unpack everything."

I kiss along his neck, tasting his sweet scent. "We can do that next time." There will be plenty of next times.

I palm his hairy chest, savoring the cuddliness of his torso, and let my hand drift down to his erection. We have a six month sex drought to make up for.

"Shit!" he yells as soon as my hand wraps around his cock.

"Are you about to come?" I ask incredulously. Maybe I'm just that good.

"No." Data removes my hand, sits up, and points.

I follow his insistent index finger, which should be up my ass at the moment, but instead pulls my focus to the window.

"Mother of shit," I say.

Heaps of snow come down fast, blanketing the landscape. After this weekend, I'm kind of over the stuff. Maybe we can get a place in Costa Rica. It never snows in Costa Rica, right?

"That's not supposed to be happening until later today," I say. Data was supposed to be the one coming early, not Mother Nature.

He hops out of bed and stares out the window. I can't admire his naked body as I'm too caught up on what's happening outside. (Well, I can a little bit. I'm only human.)

"Marsh, this is bad. Our driveway already has a layer of snow over where Duffy plowed."

As much as I want to spend the rest of my life with him, I'd like to do so outside this cabin. Preferably somewhere with Wi-Fi, reliable electricity, and an unlimited supply of Mallomars.

"We have to get out of here," he says. "If we can't make it off the access road, we're going to be snowed in for another week."

"We can have Duffy swing by again, right?"

He shakes his head no. "Duffy's plow barely made it up the access road the first time. We're supposed to get even more snow this time." He rakes a hand through his hair, spins around, cups my face, and plants a kiss on my lips reminding me that we're a unit. "Babe, we need to get dressed, pack up our essentials, and get the hell off this mountain ASAP."

"Do we have time to take a shower?" I ask.

"A quick one."

"What about shower sex?"

Data shoots me a no-way look. Fair.

"Shower hand jobs?" I tilt my head.

"I will give you all the shower sex you can handle when we get back to the city."

"I'm going to hold you to it." I almost put out my pinkie to seal the promise.

He storms out of the bedroom, and I follow behind. The living room is shining in a snowy glow. Outside, it's nearly a whiteout. Worse than Saturday. The snow is unrelenting, coming down in thick, determined flakes.

I gulp back a lump in my throat. Data's panic is less subtle.

"It could be worse," I say.

"How could this be any worse?"

I shrug. "We could be straight."