Lia
The house was asleep — or at least feigning sleep. Because my body certainly couldn't.
Perhaps an excuse. Or maybe just the longing to be close to him without any further pretenses.
Or perhaps, just perhaps, I already knew he wasn't asleep either.
And indeed, he wasn't.
"Still up?" I asked, noticing him leaning against the balcony wall, cell phone in hand, a half-smoked cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.
Relaxed. Too striking to overlook.
"I couldn't fall asleep," he replied, flicking the cigarette into the ashtray. "My mind just won't quiet down."
"I thought some wine might help," I offered, extending the bottle with a sidelong smile.
"You always do come up with good ideas," he remarked, accepting a glass and joining me on the wooden bench. The robe slipped sligh
