I’m in an Uber, drenched from having to wait for 10 minutes in the pouring rain, on my way to your place. The driver apologizes several times for having taken a wrong turn on his way to pick me up and offers me some chocolate. I’m good, thank you. He asks me if I’ve had a good night as he drives me through the streets of Bushwick. I mumble something he probably can’t hear as I lean my head against the window. The ride is no longer than 10 minutes, but it’s enough for me to doze off. Okay miss, you’re home. He pulls up the black Toyota outside your building and I thank him as I get out of the car. The five steps up the stoop is enough to get me soaked again and I enter the code to the door as quick as I can and run up the stairs to your apartment. The door is open so I let myself in, lock it behind me and walk through the pitch black hallway to your room.
I try to be quiet since I know you’re in bed and might have fallen asleep already. Then your sleepy voice breaks the silence. Hi. You get up on your elbow, hair in a wavy mess. You’re so fucking cute I die. Hey. Sorry I took so long. I strip out of all my wet clothes and leave them on the floor. It’s so dark but I know where you keep your glass of water by now so I step around it and crawl up and lay down next to you. My hot skin feels sticky against yours. When you turn around to your side you put your arms around me and let out a quiet sigh with your lips against my forehead. You’re so warm and comfy and I kiss your lips cheek neck. The window is cracked open and outside the heavy raindrops are falling towards the fire escape as if they’ve been holding on to the clouds for years and finally got permission to let go. Your hand dances up and down my spine as I tell you about my night. And when I mention how my camisole strap broke in front of a bunch of construction workers earlier you laugh a tired laugh.
It’s just a regular Monday night. Nothing special about it at all. It could’ve been any Monday Tuesday Wednesday night. But for some reason I want to hug you tighter than usual cause your shoulder is so comfortable to rest on and my waist is so safe with your arms around it. The room is sweaty and the sheets twist around our ankles, but we still keep our legs tangled together as we fall asleep. My head on your chest, your hand on my back, to the sound of summer rain.
That I used to live in this city and not sleep next to you seems crazy to me now.