16. Clarissa

I rollover and stretch my legs under the covers. Today is Saturday and my favorite day of the week. I smile to myself and tuck in deeper under the plush blankets. I can skimp on a lot of things or go without, but my bed is not one of those things. Its plush topping feels like I’m sleeping on a cloud. My thread count is in the four figures, and the cotton feels like silk against my skin.

“Clarissa, you up?” Tyree says.

“No.” I hide under my pillow, and his laughter fills the room. When the bed dips on my side, I tuck my body tighter. A hand glides over my hip and stops at my lower back.

“I’m about to head out.” His voice is still slightly thick with sleep as his warmth presses into me in an embrace. He kisses my shoulder over the blanket, and I release a sigh, still too comfortable to move.

“This early?”

“Yeah, Dad needs help taking down the decorations from Christmas. I’m on reindeer roof duty.” He lays over my back, adding his weight and warmth to my comfort.

“I wish I could stay here with my baby,” he says, hugging me tighter from behind. Another kiss is placed on my shoulder, and I smile.

I shift so my head is no longer under the pillow, but my eyes remain closed.

“Do you have time?”

He jumps up, and the sound of fabric rustling and shifting makes me smile.

“Absolutely,” he says. A second later, the covers are lifted, and he’s sliding under with me. I blink slowly, and Tyree is looking down at me with a reverence that takes my breath.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

He leans down to lift my shirt and slides it over my head. The cool air from the ceiling fan prickles my skin, and I cuddle up closer to him. He slides his hand up my hip to my waist, stopping just shy of my breast. His focus is on a small tattoo that I got in college just under my left side. Rissa was overseas in school, and I was still trying to make new friends, but it wasn’t easy. So, one night, I decided I was getting a tattoo and doing something on my own without worrying about anyone else. It’s tiny, but it hurt like hell—a butterfly in the midst of flight.

He runs his tongue over my butterfly, and I sink deeper into the mattress. With each swipe, he comes closer and closer to my nipple. The warmth of his breath with the immediate cold from the fan sends chills down my spine. When he finally lands on my nipple, it’s stiff and sensitive. I twist my fingers along his back to lock around his head, keeping him in place. Slow, steady moans vibrate with each suck and lick, a direct hit to my center.

His teeth scrape the sensitive skin, and the sensation causes a moan to escape. With his mouth fixed in place, he glides his hand until my panties are pushed down. He gets it as far as my knees, and I take over, shimmying them down until I’m free. With his thumb, he applies pressure to my clit, and the combination makes me twist under him. Big, wet kisses are followed by his low hums as he laughs in delight.

“I fucking love you, Clarissa,” he says, lifting up and positioning himself at my opening. He never shifts his eye contact as he swivels, his hips sinking as far as he can go.

I get lost in my nerves buzzing, the constant pressure churning in my belly as he presses his face into my neck, keeping me on edge. Swirls of goosebumps erupt down my arms. He leans down, taking my nipple, and I sprout into wild limbs. My moans are the only noise in the otherwise silent space as my body convulses. I press my head into the mattress as my face tingles. All my nerves are open, thick and alive with pleasure.

A few minutes later, he grunts and pulls out to finish in his hand. I’m too languid to do anything but smile.

“Shit,” he says, his breathing labored. The covers are pushed back, and the cold takes over as his warmth runs to the bathroom. Water running in the sink fills my ears, and a second later, a warm towel is placed on my skin. He moves slowly and gently, cleaning me of all traces of the morning.

He jumps back under the covers and holds me to his chest. Warm comfort surrounds me, and I release a breath.

“I don’t want to leave,” he whines.

“It’s only for a few hours.”

He kisses my neck and then moves along my clavicle bone, small and precise pecks before he hugs me tighter. I could lay like this forever, but his voice interrupts the silence.

“Okay, if I don’t get up, I’ll never leave.” One more kiss is placed on my neck, and he’s gone. I snuggle under the blanket, but I watch him get dressed, and he smiles as he pulls up his pants.

“What are your plans today?”

“I’m going to my parents’ in a few hours. My dad’s retirement is coming up next month, and mom wants to go shopping.”

“That’s cool that they’re going to start traveling. It’s not quite Paris in springtime, but I’m sure it’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He leans down and kisses my lips, lingering in a sweet torture. When he leans back, I see the bliss spilling from him. He comes back five times, turning me into a fit of giggles every time his face nuzzles my neck before he finally leaves with promises to be back in bed with me in no time.

I pull up to my childhood home and walk up the short stairs. The place looks about the same as it did when I was still living here. Quiet mostly, with trees scattered throughout the neighborhood. There’s a swing set on the tree in their yard made with a simple wood plank and rope. The wind pushes it forward, and I tighten the hold on my coat, trying to stop the air from penetrating my skin. I use my key to get in, and the warmth feels good.

“Mom! Dad!” I yell before taking off my coat and hanging it on the coat rack.

“In the kitchen,” my mom calls out.

She’s sitting at the breakfast nook with a large ceramic cup clutched in both hands. My dad is sitting on the opposite side with a paper and his cup of coffee. For as long as I can remember, it’s been their routine to have coffee in the mornings before work and on the weekends. It was always their designated time to be in each other’s presence, even if they didn’t speak, which was most times. My dad was always reading the paper, and my mom focused on her coffee and phone.

“Good morning, pumpkin,” my dad says, taking his eyes off the paper. I walk over and give them both hugs.

“Good morning.”

“I’ll be ready in a minute. We just need to finish our coffee,” Mom says, and I smile. Under no circumstances will they cut their time short. They wake up extra early just to maintain this routine.

I nod and go to the living room, turning on the TV. After ten minutes of no luck finding anything good, I turn it off. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pants pocket.

Tyson: Hey, what are you up to today? Tyree is at his folks, and I need assistance.

Me: I’m about to go shopping with my mom for their trip. Why, what’s up.

Tyson: Oh shit, my bad. Nevermind.

Me: No, what is it? Unlike me, my mom doesn’t waste time in stores. We’ll probably be done within an hour.

Tyson: Well, I just got the keys to my new place, and I need everything. Did you know houses don’t come with pots and pans or groceries? Lol.

I throw my head back and laugh before I finish my reply.

“Is that Tyree? Tell him I said hello,” my mom says, walking to get her purse and put on her shoes.

“No, this isn’t Tyree. You ready?”

Me: Funny. I’ll let you know when I’m finished, and we can go.

Tyson: This is why you’re the best.

Me: Facts, lol.

Tyson: Lol.

I look up at my mom staring at me. “What?”

“Who is that?”

“Oh, just Tyson. He finalized his house, and he needs my help with furniture.”

She slips on her shoes and eyes me. “Be careful.”

I stuff my phone in my back pocket, and my expression turns sour. “What?”

“Just be mindful. You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” I say, still trying to make sense of her earlier statement. Just as I predicted, our trip was succinct and smooth. She found some of the cutest capri sets and dresses, and even picked up new shirts for my dad.

“So when do y’all leave again?” I ask.

“At the end of February. I’m so excited to see Paris!” She smiles.

“Did you get that list of places from Rissa? She added a few more spots she forgot to mention before.”

“I sure did. I already have our itinerary set up. We have a guide who’s a translator, so we should be okay.”

I get a prickle along my chest. I wish I were going on a trip like that. My mind drifts back to Tyson and his words about what I want my memories to be when the final curtain falls. Stationary at my office job or eating the best Chinese dumplings in London? Life is more than dumplings, of course; the sentiment is what sticks to me.

I twist my hands and press along my thumb and index finger.

“We’ll be gone for three weeks.” My mom’s words break my focus, and I turn to her.

“I’m so happy for y’all. Take lots of pictures, and don’t talk to strangers.” She rolls her eyes, and we laugh all the way to the car. I drop my mom off, then pull out my phone.

When I check on Tyree, he’s still at his parents’ house. His dad had a few more projects he wanted help with, and last I checked, they were at Home Depot. I joke with him I’d see him tomorrow. It won’t take that long, but essentially, his Saturday has been hijacked. He’ll be gone all day.

Bubbles populate almost immediately, and I sit idle, waiting for a response before I pull off.

Me: All done. Are you ready?

Tyson: Yep.

Me: Cool, on my way now. Send me the address.

When I pull up to his house, the only word that comes to mind is exuberance. There’s a small hill where the driveway goes down and spills into the house. The lines are sleek and simple, but the front is all glass, and that pulls my attention. I’ve always liked the idea of that much natural light, but everybody seeing inside my house never sat right with me. I park and walk up the short walkway and smile. While it’s obvious it’s glass, only my reflection is clear. The door opens, and Tyson is standing with his arms stretched out.

“What do you think?

“I love it. I was worried about all these windows for a minute.”

“Me too. I had it all redone with one-way glass.” I nod, and he steps back, making room.

“Okay, house!” I laugh, and he follows behind me. His chuckle is a thick rumble that flows into the house, seemingly more punctuated by zero furniture. I actually appreciate it because it makes my vision that much more clear.

“What are your hopes for this adventure, Tyson? Do I have free rein, or do you already know what you want?”

He scratches his head and leans against a support beam on the side of what will be his living room. “You’ve got good taste. I’m hoping to see your vision.”

“These are words I like.” I laugh and walk through the space. My mind is already checking off stores and places we can visit. After a few minutes, I turn to him with a smile.

“I won’t lie to you, Tyson. This is going to be a process. I’ll tell you it will only be one more store, and I’ll want it to be true…but it won’t be.” I grimace with an exaggerated face. “You’ll want to give up. You’ll tell me to pick anything so that you can leave. Are you sure you want me to help you shop?”

He laughs, throwing his head back, and I cross my arms under my chest.

“You make it sound like torture. It’ll be fine.”

“Oh, it’s giving famous last words.” I laugh, and he locks up behind us.

“Oh, we’re almost done! Let’s just check this aisle. They might have something you need,” I say, turning the basket. Tyson is dragging himself behind me, and I snicker.

“You know what, Issa? It’s cool. I think this is good, and we can call it a day.”

I turn to face him with my hands crossed under my chest.

He looks down at me, and a slow smile spreads. “You’re doing this on purpose?”

“Am I?”

He walks into my space and shakes his head. “You can’t break me, Issa. Let’s go to ten more stores.”

I fall over laughing, and he joins in, slow at first, with a reluctance. The air is thick, and he slides over. We’re propped on the basket and standing shoulder to shoulder. Well, shoulder to upper arm—he’s a bit taller than I am.

“I’m joking. We can go, plus my feet are starting to hurt.” I walk off, and he follows me, draping his arms over my shoulders with a laugh.

“Nah, you had so much to say.”

I hum as he taunts me. I’m seriously surprised he didn’t want to quit. Rissa would have quit four stores ago. I pretty much crammed a weeklong shopping trip into one day.

“Seriously, though, I appreciate you helping me. Your taste is exquisite.” His arm is still draped around my shoulder, and I clear my throat, shifting until it falls away.

“No problem. We should head out.” I hike my thumb over my shoulder to the checkout line.

He doesn’t speak, but he nods in agreement.