Sunday Morning

He didn't know how he woke up, but his biological time clock started to buzz, and his eyes had a tremendous weight lifted off of them. He opened them, only to find the room illuminated by the flawless sunlight. Despite the winter season, the sun shined as if he was seeing a spring sun. All of the colors were vibrant, the sheets he was covered in snow white. He rubbed his eyes to get the vertigo out, and turned to his right side. Next to him was Heather, sleeping in his direction her face so innocent it was like he was looking at a whole different person. Her bare, sun kissed shoulders were exposed through the sheets, making her look divine.

He leaned onto the side of the bed, trying to recollect the night before. It only took him seconds to remember, the clear visions of their bodies intertwined in compassion. His friend of over a year, the one who had incredible chemistry with him, just slept with him. He never had sex before, and his first time was with a girl he felt great compassion for, but will not see again until the next break he has during school. What will happen with their—whatever kind of relationship—now? Will he leave this city as friends, or will they become something so much more? His head was at a fork road, and each path didn't end well.

The rustle of the sheets made him move his body, and found Heather opening her eyes like a newborn baby. Once she caught gaze of him, she smiled the morning smile he's dreamed of, hoping to see that smile with his eyes opened.

"Good morning, Miles." She said gently, stretching out her arms. "You sleep well?"

"Of course I did," said Miles. "That was the best rest I had in a dog's age."

"You and your old school metaphors," she chuckled, and leaned closer to him, hugging him from behind. Her warm skin felt so riveting to course through Mile's nerves. "So you want to get some coffee soon? I'll buy, as long as I can shower first."

"What's going to happen next?" asked Miles.

"Well, once I'm out of the shower you go in, then we get dressed and—"

"No, I mean; what is going to happen with us now?" Miles asked, turning his head towards her face. Her eyes looked dazzling so close up, bathed in the sunlight. She had a quizzical face on, but her expression showed no sign of worry. She grabbed her sheets to cover her chest, lying back on the bed. "Well we can do two things," she began. "We can be very traditionally with this and never speak of last night ever again. You can put on your jeans, jet right out of here on the next train to Boston. Not only will we never speak of this again, we will be so awkward with each other that even if we make a joke the sexual tension will hold us down to a point where we can't interact any longer."

"I would love to hear the next option," huffed Miles. He was impressed with how well Heather pictured a scenario of the future, mostly because he felt the same way of how this morning was going to go.

"Or," said Heather and dragged Miles back onto the bed, his nose inches away from the center of her eyes. "We can be really simple about it. We can stay as friends, always keeping in contact while we're both in our respected cities. When the course of our lives brings us together in the same place at the same time; we take advantage of it. We enjoy each other's company, and just have some good clean fun together. Does that sound good?"

A kiss invaded Heather's lips, so she closed her eyes and savored Mile's sweet lips. He let go of her lips, and stared at her. He smiled at her and said "That sounds wonderful, Heather."

She widened her grin, and her eyes wandered to her bathroom door. "So are you going to take a shower first or should I get in now?"

Miles laughed, and with that was somehow etched into his face all morning, he dragged Heather out of bed, and they both went into the bathroom, shutting the door.

It was nearly noon, and Time Central Station was busy as ever, despite being a Sunday. "In New York it doesn't matter if this is the Holy day of rest, a New Yorker finds a Sunday like any other day." As Heather would tell Miles.

The train boarding for Boston was about to depart in ETA ten minutes, and Miles and Heather stood in the miles of the station gazing at each other. There was so much either of them could say to the other, but they didn't know where to start. They didn't know if they should be thankful things worked out perfectly this weekend. Miles didn't know if he should say this entire weekend he's been hoping his feelings about Heather were going to be represented by at least last night, or Heather didn't know she was trying to give out signals all weekend just for Miles to make the move. A million of other things could have been said, but instead Miles began the conversation.

"So Martin Luther King's day is right around the corner," he said as he gazed out into the populated area, but his eyes were drawn back to Heather's sun-kissed face. "Maybe you can come on down to Boston, show you all the hidden places you never knew existed. Maybe even see a show in the theater district?"

She nodded, her grin never leaving her face. "That sounds wonderful," she said. The speaker in the station started to roar all throughout the area, warning passengers that the next train (which is Boston) is leaving in five minutes. Both of them locked their eyes onto each other, and Miles leaned in for a kiss. It was a quick pucker, but it was still luscious to his lips all the same. "I'll see you soon, Heather."

"I hope so, Miles." She said as her voice was only perceptible to Miles. He turned away, holding her hand until he was too far away to keep his arm extended. He strolled down into the train, found an empty seat in the booth, and started to relax. He called his parents to let them know he was on the train and should be in Boston by the afternoon. When his mother asked him how he liked New York, he told them "It was unforgettable."

After he got all his essentials taken care of, he put his headphones on, and played his iPod. The moment he pressed play, he started to hear the same slow, acoustic chords being played, echoing through his ears. It was John Mayer's "Comfortable" song. Three days ago he had no idea why he was so entranced by this song, captivating his conscience. Now he remembers the memory of this song. The song is one of Heather's favorite songs, the one she can always put on repeat for hours and never get tired of it.

Miles smiled as his memories of the past few days flooded throughout his mind. He laid his head back on the cushion of the chair, closing his eyes. Before he did, he pressed the repeat button on his iPod. For the next few hours, the John Mayer song played endlessly. For those entire three hours, he did not get sick of the song once.