"It's complicated, isn't it?" She was turned over, her face resting on a pillow, watching his bare back as he leaned forward. At one point she might have felt awkward with how exposed she was, but she didn't really mind these days. Her breasts pressed against the cool sheets felt good, and she liked the barely-there presence of a blue, silky blanket covering her backside.

"What is?"

"Us," She replied, rolling over onto her side and reaching out a hand to trace his skin. He breathed in a bit, taking a drag on his cigarette, and let nothing more go than a thoughtful "Mm."

She sometimes wondered when he smoked. She knew other girls he was involved with did too. She wondered if he'd ever offered them to share his. She pictured them - redheads with fake breasts and slender blondes - and wondered a little what it was like to be one of them, before she realized it made her stomach lurch in a nauseous little effort at rebellion. She did not want to be one of them. She wanted to be the one.

The soft sound of movement brought her from her masochistic fantasies, and she realized that he was pulling on his shirt.
Getting ready to leave.

"Can't you stay tonight?"

She knew every word before he said it: "I've got work in the morning."

Sighing, she rolled over, resigning herself to ignoring him now. There was a silence and a halt in movement. A soft sigh and then a shuffle.

"I have to leave early."

A soft smile blossomed on her lips as she felt him pull up behind her: a reminder of how well they fit.