While the rest of the world was sleeping

The Guy (formerly New Guy) and I are good at mornings. The bed seems to be an oasis of sorts.
He wakes before his alarm and turns it off. Then he turns and cradles around me. A kiss on the sholder, the nape of my neck. I usually wake up as his hand grazes my chest. I smile to myself as he pulls me closer to him. We exchange good mornings and play footsie for a few seconds, then fall back asleep.

I usually wake up about half an hour later, as he pulls away from me to get ready for work. His office makes him work crazy hours so he doesnt have to be in the office until "10:30 at the latest".

I listen to him shower for a few minutes before I doze off again. He wakes me up as see saddles into bed with me again; his hair wet, his hands clammy. I turn and wrap myself around him like an octopus. "I wish I could lay in bed all day." He usually says, or something to that affect.

He switches on the radio to hear the news, and we listen to the weather report as I absentmindedly kiss his chest. We stay like this for a while. Just me, him, the bed, the morning news. We make remarks about the weather, as he lightly drags his fingers along my back. Its easy touching. Its possesive yet passive. The beginning of something. Something that may become nothing in the grand scheme of things. It also may be something incredibly meaningful, the foundation of profound love. A blossoming.

Eventually he sighs deeply and says "ok, I really gotta go to work now." I clutch him cutely and say "Stay with MEEE, you know you want to." He "Humphs" in agreement and makes a remark about bringing home the bacon.

I watch as he gets dressed, admiring the way he looks. The curves, the divots, the supple and the masculine. To me he is gorgeous. He asks for my opinion about shirts, and jeans. Always the black belt.

I get up and get dressed as well. Hoping that he's noticing me the way I notice him. As I buttoned my shirt this morning he walked over to me, holding my face he walked me back into the wall and kissed me. I felt his arms wrap around me, holding me secure. I felt the world drop away from me. A feeling that I usually had to simulate with a drug or a book. The kiss morphs into a hug, deep and tender.

When we break he puts his hand on the wall next to my head. He resembles John Travolta in Grease, or Jay and the Americans. "Hey kid," he says "I think I kinda like ya."
"You would," I reply teasing. We banter back and forth for a moment and then get serious. He needs to go to work, I need to let him.

We leave the apartment with a final polite, respectful lip lock. His hand on the middle of my chest, mine the side of his face. He likes me.

We walk to my train station, half a block away. We smile at each other, remark on the actual tempature. We talk about the New York morning. And we depart with a hug. I decend the stairs wishing for more time with him. And image him walking to work.

On the train I search my ipod for something profound, something to sum it all up, but I dont find anything. So I look, blank stares from commuters surround me and I think "If only they knew my story, my morning."