Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Weekend Scruff...

She'd start dreading the end of the weekend the minute she woke up on Sunday morning. From the first nuzzle and his bright-eyed promise to make her - and feed her - the greatest basted eggs she'd ever enjoyed, to the drop-dead gorgeous view of him walking to the kitchen wearing very, very, very little and turning around for one more cheeky wink. Pure dread.

Through the entire day, there'd be moments like this. During their Canyon run and during their shared shower and during their hour nap on the hammock, suddenly she'd frown. And remember.

They spent an hour in the bookstore, grabbed a late coffee with an extra shot at her insistence, and met friends for dinner. Her best pulled her aside. "Is everything all right?" she whispered. "You seem...not yourself."

"Fine. I'm fine." she brushed it all away and tried to remember to smile. "It's just...Sunday."

They drove home in silence, her gripping his hand the entire way, him smiling at her obvious distress. She'd pray the coffee worked and keep him up as late as she could, way past yawns and nods until she couldn't put it off any longer.

Then she'd pull him close, hold his face in her hands, and melt right before his eyes. "Goodbye, you." she'd whisper fiercely into his mouth.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby!" he'd laugh, confused by even more touched by her raw emotion.

But she'd shake her head as she ran her fingers through his scruff, equal parts wistfully and hungrily, and sweetly...sadly...disagreed. 

"But I won't see this you until next weekend."

Do you have two different lovers? The one you see all week and then the one that comes out on the weekends? Tell me, please! I love scruff, don't you?