In a New York Minute(80)

Franny turned to face me, placing her hands flat on my chest. “I have a long list of ideas, if you’re open to hearing them.”

She tucked her fingers into my waistband, scraping her nails gently along my skin. With one swift movement, she had gone from sitting next to me to straddling my lap, her hands now wrapped around my hips. She placed a delicate kiss on my cheekbone and then traced her lips to my ear, then down my neck. Instinctively, I pressed her into me, wrapping my arms around her back, and let out a long sigh into her neck, resisting the urge to lift her up and carry her to her bed—or, better yet, the kitchen counter.

“I’m listening,” I said. The words came out rough, like wheels on gravel.

“Well, the most important thing to know,” she said, “is that every one of them involves you completely naked.”

*



The next morning, I woke up again in Franny’s bed. But this time, I wasn’t clutching a pillow. I was holding her. She was splayed across my chest, face-planted and out, one arm draped over my stomach. My arms were wrapped around her like she was a safety blanket. “Franny?” My voice was a hoarse whisper. I got no reply. She was out, and so I lay there, doing absolutely nothing but enjoying the sensation of her body pressed against mine, the way her bare skin felt against my fingers, her rhythmic breathing lulling me back into a quiet, meditative place.

I wasn’t used to lying still, to indulging my senses in what was happening in the present. Normally, I woke up before my alarm, grabbing my phone before my eyes were even open. Scrolling emails. Devouring news. Paying bills. But here, in Franny’s bed, I wasn’t even sure where my phone was. And I didn’t want to leap out of bed, torch my adrenaline, start my day. I felt perfectly content for the first time in maybe forever.

Franny stretched awake and leaned back to face me. “Hey,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

“Morning,” I said softly, running a finger down her nose.

She rolled over to look at her phone and groaned when she saw the time. “I really do not want to take the train out to Connecticut today.”

“Baby shower time?” I asked, trying not to let her hear the disappointment in my voice.

She nodded and slid next to me, her head tucked against my shoulder. “Can we hang out tomorrow night? I could come to you?”

“My flight to Seattle is at six fifteen tomorrow morning. I’m back Thursday night.”

“Noooo,” she moaned.

“You could come stay at my place tonight?” I suggested, determined to figure out a solution.

“I don’t think I get back into the city until, like, ten o’clock.” She ran a hand down my chest, then from hip bone to hip bone, and I sucked in a breath.

Franny giggled. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. Suddenly, she sat upright. “Screw it,” she said. “I’m not going.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping your mom?” I asked.

“Shh.” She pressed a finger against my lips. “Please don’t talk me out of this.”

She grabbed her phone, and as she typed out a message to her mom, I took my time kissing my way across her shoulder blades.

“Done,” she said, twisting around to wrap her arms around my neck, shifting to straddle me. “I told my mom I had a migraine. I didn’t tell her that my migraine was gorgeous, and naked in my bed.”

She pulled me toward her, kissing me deeply, and every thought in my mind evaporated into dust.

Later, we made pancakes from scratch together as NPR blared from Franny’s phone, and topped them with some of the raspberries we’d lugged home in the rain yesterday. We spread out over her tiny table, passing pages from the Sunday New York Times across to each other as we ate in silence. It was achingly intimate, and resonated with me just as deeply as sliding next to her naked in bed did. Sex was one thing, but comfort, finding contentment in the quiet, that was something else altogether. Our actions were as unhurried as our day: We read, we sipped, we took leisurely bites. The silence was interrupted when Franny kicked me with her foot and asked, “Am I going to have to fight you for the crossword?”

I sighed dramatically, handing the Magazine over begrudgingly.

“Okay, fine, I’ll share.” She planted a kiss on my forehead as she stood and grabbed two pencils from a cup on the little shelf by the window.

She tried to hand me one, and I waved her off. “Do you really think I do the crossword in pencil, Franny? It’s pen or nothing.”

“Wow, that’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” She leaned forward and kissed me before heading back to grab a pen. Then we splayed out on the couch and spent the next thirty minutes scribbling and debating.

“Well, that was way faster than when I do it on my own,” Franny said, looking at our completed work.

“I’m proud of us.” I leaned forward for a high five. “Who knew we’d make such a good team. I’ll be honest, sometimes I skip Sundays, because it’s too hard for me.”

“Wow, Hayes has a weakness! And here I thought you were chiseled, nerdy perfection.”

I rolled my eyes, but her opinion thrilled me. Even if it was tongue-in-cheek, there was something in her voice that told me she also thought it was true. Just a little.

“I’m glad I stayed here with you,” she said, draping her legs over mine. “It’s been a while since I did something I wanted to do, just for me.”