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Cheri
21 August 2015 @ 03:18 pm
"What are you doing after work, babe?" Tony asks. He calls me at 3PM, trying to get a feel for my day, probably so he can insert himself into it. Surprise.
"Taking myself shopping. I'm gonna get some frozen yogurt and just walk around, poke into a few sales racks, that sort of thing. Maybe go see a movie by myself in the mall theater," I say.
"Really? By yourself?"
"Yeah!" I say. "I did this kind of stuff all the time when I was single. You're welcome to join me, if you like? It's relaxing and nice."
"Maaaaaybe ... I probably shouldn't be spending any money right now."
"You don't have to buy anything. I'm not shopping for anything -- just shopping for fun. Maybe we can go to Levis and look at those jeans you like?"
"Baaaabe, you don't have to get me anything."
"I know I don't have to get you anything," I say. "But I like doing it. And if you loved me, you'd let me!"
He laughs. "Babyyy ... Maybe."
"You're so indecisive." I laugh. "You have to make your own decisions sometimes, sweetie. You can't let me just drive your life for you."
"Okay, fine... I don't really want to walk around and shop. What did you want to do after?" He says, still leading the conversation.
I smile. "I was planning on just coming home and relaxing. We've kind of had a really heavy last few weekends, angel. Wanderlust, Outside Lands, Reno ... My body is hurting. And we have Burning Man coming up. Like, we might die from all the raging we've been doing."
"That's just our life, babe! We're always having fun!"
"Yeah, yeah."
"My buddy says he wants to come to San Francisco tonight and have fun. And Greg wants to go out, too."
"That sounds fun," I say. "If you want to go, you should go!"
"... I kind of want to kick it with you too, though," he says, still leading.
"Baby, if you want me to come out with you, I'll come out. Whatever makes you happy, okay? But also, we've been spending a lot of time together lately. If you want to just have some boys' time, you should chill with your boys."
"But I like spending time with youuuu," he says, pouting.
I giggle. "You're so cute."
"What about: after you get done shopping, you meet up with me, and I can drive us home, and we can figure out what we'll do together?"
"Okay, handsome," I say, smiling. "If that makes you happy."
"Yes, it does."

This cute, needy little sweetheart. I'll give you all the attention you want, you adorable, romantic, badass, boss motherfucker. <3
 
 
 
Cheri
21 August 2015 @ 06:57 am
I'm not usually a morning person. When my alarm goes off, I snooze the thing to hell, turn over in my sheets, and tug the blankets over my eyes. GTFO, sunlight! But now that I have a boyfriend who gets up at the ass-crack of dawn, it's actually really nice getting up with him and starting my day early. Especially since I get to spoil him a little!

This morning, I got up and made us breakfast while he showered for work.

He got to munch on: turkey bacon, scrambled eggs with kale and ground black pepper topped with fresh salsa, a side of strawberries, and ice cold water.

For myself, I made: greek yogurt with almond butter, strawberries, honey, and granola, and a hot cup of coffee.

"Babe, this is amazing," he says, leaning over to kiss to me at 6am.
"Good!" I'm glowing. There's nothing more rewarding than watching the person you care about gorge themselves on delicious, home-cooked, and healthy food with a big smile on their face.
"Seriously, you're the best."
"Don't you forget it," I say, teasing him with a mischievious smile.
"I won't, babe. Never. Every day, you remind me how great you are just by being yourself."

This little charmer ...

He downs his water, throws his suit jacket on, then leans over and kisses me.

"Have an amazing day today, baby. I'll call and text you all day. Thank you so much for breakfast. I'm so lucky to have you."
"Keep saying that; that's how you get more breakfasts in your future." I'm grinning ear to ear, reaching over to rub his cute chin. He's so fucking gorgeous.

This is how you start your morning right.
 
 
 
Cheri
13 August 2015 @ 06:16 pm
"Sooo, what are you doing?" He asks. We're talking on the phone as I wander around my room packing things for our 3-day weekend trip in Reno.
"Chilling. You need to go work out so I can come over," I say.
"Baaabe, noooo!" He whines. "It's already 6PM, and by the time I come grab you, it'll be 7pm, which means I'll have to go to bed, like, right away."
"Didn't I say I wouldn't come over unless you worked out?"
"... No ..." He lies, and I can hear him smiling.
"Sweetie," I say, smiling too because he's such a fucking trouble-maker. "You said you wanted to work out every day this week, and that you wanted me to motivate you."
"I'm working out right now! I'm walking 2 miles in a suit to my car! And I'm sweating!" He says.
"Are you sure you weren't a salesman in another life?"
He's laughing his cute laugh.
"Babe, I bet you were one of those kids who would get in trouble, but because you were so cute, no one could stay mad at you."
"Oh," he begins, "You can ask my Mom. One day, she was so mad at me -- waving her arms around and yelling at me because she was so pissed. I was really little, and she was pointing in my face like, TONY! I can't believe you! And I just grabbed her hand, and I kissed the tip of her finger, and she instantly forgot why she was mad at me in the first place."
I burst out laughing. "BABY!"
He's laughing too.
"If you did that to me, I'd react the exact same way. How could you be mad at someone so cute like that?!"
"SEE?!" He says, picking up where he left off. "Please come over. I want to hang out with you. How about this -- I come pick you up, and you just hang out on my couch and play on your computer or something, and I'll work out while you're there. It will motivate me!"
"You can't see me, but I'm rolling my eyes right now."
"Baby, just say yes."
"..."
"SAY YES!"
"... Fine."
"YESSSSS," he says, laughing.
"You're so cute, I just want to punch you in the face. Get away from me."
"I'll see you soon, Babe."
"Yeah, yeah." I smile and end the call.
 
 
 
Cheri
11 August 2015 @ 08:03 pm
My sweetie.
Holy shit, he's so good to me.
What the fuck?
 
 
 
Cheri
21 July 2015 @ 02:33 am

"Do you want to go on the roof with me?" I ask.
"I'll go anywhere with you," he says, smiling at me.

Everyone is drunk. It's a friend's birthday party, and several of my closest buds are ascending a metal ladder, climbing onto the roof of the apartment building. I watch them laugh and trip over themselves from my vantage point on the fire ecsape. As they reach the top, their happy giggling calls to me, enticing me.

"We have to do it," I say, thrilled at the idea of going on a drunken rooftop adventure. I slip off my high heels, then turn to look at him, the cutest boy I've ever met, holding my beer and heels out to him with a smile. "Do you mind holding these?"
"Not. At. All," he says, grinning and taking them from me. I smile at him more. I can't help smiling at him. He has this disarming, charming grin, these perfect teeth, these kind eyes -- you can't help but want to smile when you look at him. And I don't realize it then, but there are many more smiles to come.

I press bare feet against the rungs of the ladder, laughing at how cold it is, and climb up to the roof. "Don't look up my dress!" I yell down to him.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he calls back, and I hear the mischief in his voice.

When I reach the top, I kneel, bare-kneed, to the rocky rooftop, reaching down toward him. He reaches up and hands me our beer, then my shoes. I set them aside and watch him climb up after me. When he reaches me, he helps me to my feet.

"Let's explore!" I say. Excited, I snatch my shoes from the ground and take off barefoot across the rooftop, splashing through puddles, padding across dirt and rubble.
When he catches up to me, he takes my hand. "Cheri," he says.
"Yes?" I turn to face him, smiling, happy. I run my hands over his tanned forearms, reckless in my flirtation, absolutely wanting. We've been together all night. He's met my friends. I've met his. He's wonderful. He's better than I remember. He's the cutest fucking boy I've ever met. I want him.
"Can I kiss you?" He asks.
"YES!" The word bursts from me without a hint of hesitation, and I laugh at myself. "Finally! Yes! Kiss me!"

He kisses me.
He kisses me, finally, and it's amazing.
And I kiss him back.
And he tastes good.
And his hands feel good.
And his lips feel good.
My hands go into his hair.
His hands go into mine.
He kisses my makeup off.
My makeup smears onto his skin.
We breathe each other in.
Our tongues touch, massage, dance, and taste.

"Damn," he says aloud. "You are such a babe."
"Then why have you never hung out with me?" I say, shoving him away playfully. "I practically threw myself at you, you idiot."
He stumbles back slightly, smiling. "Truthfully?" He says.
"Yes! I want to know!" I say, folding my arms around myself in a mock pout while he places his own around me as well, pulling me close.
"Okay. To tell you the truth... I was intimidated."
"What? How? Why?"
"Don't judge me, but ... I may have done a little Facebook and Instagram creeping after you found me, and I saw how many guys are after you. It was really intimidating. You could literally have anyone you wanted."
I laugh at this, throw my arms around his neck, and kiss him hard. "But I like you! I wrote a song about you the night I met you! I don't write ukulele songs for just anybody, dummy!"
"And it was amazing," he says, kissing me back. "I was so flattered. I couldn't believe this babe was into me. I didn't know how to proceed."

We talk.
We kiss.
We laugh.

Eventually, we make our way to the edge of the roof.

"Let's sit," I say.
"Okay," he says. He sits himself down, then pulls me into his lap, kissing me again. Then, after talking for a while, he asks, "Do you want to come home with me?"
"What? Like, tonight?" I ask.
"Yes," he says.

I smile to myself because every other time someone's asked me back to their place, I've always hesitated, my heart not in it. I hesitate now as well, but this hesitation isn't because my heart isn't in it. My hesitation now comes only because I finally have my crush in my arms, and I don't want to screw it up.

Sensing my pause, he says, "No pressure, okay? I'm not expecting anything from you. I'd just really, really like to spend more time with you."
The way he phrases it makes me laugh. "Oh yeah? Is that what you want to do?" With a smile, I press small kisses across his face.
"Yes!" He says. "I want to spend more time kissing you, talking to you. I want to spend tomorrow with you. And the day after that. And the day after that."
He has me giggling, and he kisses me again. So much kissing. It doesn't end.
"I'll let you borrow the comfiest tee-shirt and gym shorts I own. You can take a shower -- whatever you want. Just tell me."
I smile. "Maybe."
"I can deal with maybe," he says, smiling back, holding me close.

Eventually, I do go home with him.
He carries me in, remarking on how little I am, how easy I am to hold.
And he's right. Those gym shorts and tee shirt are super comfy.

I'm drunk, he's drunk, and we kiss. We kiss a lot. In between talking and getting to know each other, we kiss. We touch, and we kiss, and we smile, and we laugh, and we look at each other, and we repetitively exclaim our disbelief and attraction toward one another.

Then, we fall asleep.




In the days after that, we make more plans to see each other. And we do. We meet more of each other's friends. We get sunburnt in Dolores Park. We lay out on the beach together in the sand while he reads Rolling Stone and remarks on interesting articles he stumbles across. We have dinner at a tapas restaurant and drink sangria together. He reaches for my hand across the table. We hold hands and smile. In public, he offers me his arm, and I take it. We watch movies together. We watch his favorite shows. We eat junk food together. We laugh together. We talk the whole time. He tells me stories. I kiss the shit out of him as often as I can.

We finally make love.
The sounds he makes when we do, are just ...
His face.
The way he touches me.
The way he looks naked.
The way his skin feels.
He's amazing.

"That was amazing," he says, breathless. "Come here." He pulls me into him, cuddling me close.

I want him all the time.
He wants me the same.

"Come with me this weekend," he says.
"To where?" I look up from kissing his chest.
"To Squaw Valley for this music festival. I'm staying in this amazing cabin. All of my best friends are going. I'll be there for about 3 days. I want you to go."
"What?" I laugh. "I... Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I want you there."
"That's a long time to spend with me, don't you think?" When he keeps smiling at me instead of responding, I add, "Why don't you think it over during the week, and if you still want me to come, you tell me, and I'll pack a bag, and I'll come?"
"Okay," he says.

A few days after that, I'm at dinner with a girlfriend, explaining to her how nervous this whole situation makes me. She keeps reassuring me that it sounds like he really likes me, and that I have nothing to worry about. I tell her about how all I want to do is go with him to the music festival, but that it seems like he's changed his mind. She tells me I'm crazy, and laughs at me.

After dinner, I'm home in bed playing my ukulele, and I get a text from him.
He confirms.
He still wants me to go.

So I do.

While we're there, he says things to me that make my heart thump in my chest. He treats me like a princess, doesn't allow me to lift a finger, and does everything with me. At the music festival, he dances with me all night. He kisses me. He twirls me. He drinks with me. We laugh with his friends. I get to know everyone. We eat together. We explore together. We go on aventures together. During the day, we lay out on a dock near this warm lake, soaking up sunshine and sipping beer. We bond. We fall asleep together every night. We wake up next to each other every morning. We kiss too many times to count.




By the time it's over, we're closer. We're more comfortable with each other. We're intimate, and we touch, and we talk, and he kisses, and I kiss, and we can't keep our hands off of each other.

In the car ride back home to San Francisco, he says, "So ... Do you... Want to order Eat24, come watch all of my Sunday HBO shows with me, and spend the night at my place?"
"Yes!" I say, smiling, and we kiss for the millionth time.

Then, we have a perfect Sunday.

The next day, he texts me during work. He texts me after work. He calls me after work. He calls me before he goes to bed.

I can't believe this is happening.
Whatever this is, it's amazing.
I don't ever want it to stop.
I am so grateful.