I Wish You The Best

31 - Delilah

"I have to go to work."

My words are muffled under the strong arm of the man sleeping beside me. I have snoozed my alarm twice now which is why I know I only have one more alarm left and when that sounds I know I'll have virtually no time left before I have to get ready for work.

"I'm injured, Doctor McKenna, please care for me." Mason teases, tugging me closer. I can't help the laugh that leaves my lips or the way my heart all but falls out of my chest at feeling so close. The ache between my legs is a reminder of just how close we got the night before. I didn't expect him to be back in town so soon, never mind in my bed.

I wasn't complaining.

I feared for the moment to end, for this bubble of uncertainty that we both occupied to stay afloat. I know we'd eventually have to talk. No, we should talk. Nothing has changed in the matter of a few weeks and nothing will. In order to flesh out these feelings and what we're doing, we'd have to bring up the past.

A hand slides down my back.

Maybe the talking can wait.

"Not a doctor yet. And if I was, I'd tell you to get your ass up and start some physical therapy instead of laying in bed." I move to get out of bed, my words holding no real threat. Mason laughs a deep laugh, his voice muffled by the pillow he's shoved his face into.

I escape to the bathroom before he can drag me back to bed. Getting ready as quickly as I can, already having lost a good twenty minutes of my time, I enter back into my bedroom fresh breath and ready to change.

I can feel the weight of his eyes on me as I get my scrubs and rummage for a headband in the small basket on my dresser. Without caring about those heavy eyes I drop my shorts and remove my shirt, changing into my work scrubs for the day.

"Now that's a form of illegal torture for sure." Mason groans. "We need to talk. Preferably with no clothes, like you were just a second ago." He teases lightly.

I know he's trying to make jokes to deflect the heaviness of it all. To deflect from asking, what are we doing? I appreciate his attempt.

"Get up." I turn around, tying my hair back and looking over to the still very sprawled out broken quarterback on my bed. It's times like these, looking at him wearing nothing but his boxers, that I'm reminded of the pure athleticism he possesses. Even after having months off due to his injury, he's still in better shape than I could ever be.

I take a mental picture for keepsake.

"Make me." He teases, dropping the covers so they fall to his narrow hips and expose his upper body. He makes a weird face at me and then settles into a small smile. "You look beautiful this morning, Delilah." I hold my breath at his words.

I'm overwhelmed with affection at that moment, his words, the way he says them, the way he's laying in my bed sprawled out. My heart burst at the seams. It all seems so surreal that after all these years we're still so comfortable just being us.

"Thank you," I answer, turning back to my dresser to grab some socks and finish getting ready. Mason watches me the entire time, from packing my bag to putting on my shoes. When he finally rolls out of bed and searches for his discarded clothes, it's just about time for me to leave. He follows me into the kitchen, the both of us doing our best to be quiet for my dad's sake, and watches me again as I grab my prepared food for the shift.

"You need me to drop anything off to you?" Mason whispers into my hair, somehow finding his way back around me again, his front pressed up against my back watching me throw an apple into my lunch box.