Love Ridden

I’ve spent my entire day cleaning. The place looks pretty spot on if I do say so myself. I shove my hands in the pockets of my sweats and feel several somethings jostle around. I pull them out and look at them again. I've found a small handful of bobby pins around my place today while I was cleaning. I swear she leaves these things everywhere. Each one I hold is like a tiny memory of her. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t just throw them away as I found them.

I can picture her taking her hair down, sitting on my couch, making herself comfortable as we sit and watch telly. I love watching her play with her hair. She has this habit of holding one piece and twirling it around and then with one finger she ties it in a knot. I’m not even sure she notices when she's doing it. It’s something she just does when she’s idle and still and I secretly love it. Watching her makes me wish I could just sit and run by fingers through her hair, feel its softness pull through them, catch the faintest hint of her shampoo in my nose.

I look back down at the bobby pins laying so innocently in my hand. I think I’ll keep them. I grab a small dish that I normally use for my change and take it to my bathroom. Letting them rest there, I try not to imagine her here. I try not to imagine what she would look like as she got ready for bed, one of my t-shirts skimming her thighs. I try not to imagine her hopping into my bed and snuggling into me because she’s cold, even going as far as to stick her icy feet on my legs in an attempt to warm them. And I try not to imagine finding better, more fun ways to warm her up.

I try not to and I fail.

Miserably.

Looking at my phone, I realize it is nearly time for her to be here. I quickly pull off my sweats, trying to ignore the semi I’ve given myself by all the not imagining I just did of her and I go to my closet to get dressed. I want to look nice for her. I pull on jeans and soft loose white t-shirt. The collar's wide and it shows just a bit of my chest hair. Glancing down, I scruff it up a bit. I’m hoping she’ll say something about it like she usually does. Maybe even reach out and touch it as she makes fun of me for letting it show. I go back to the bathroom and spray on some cologne. I want to smell nice for her. I want my scent to linger on her skin and clothes after I hug her like I’ve written my name on her, claiming her as mine. Property of Niall.

I hear her knock on the door and I rush towards it, but stop short of opening it. I don’t want to seem too eager. I’m preparing myself to see her. Deep breaths, in and out. A week is entirely too long to go without her. When I finally open the door and I see her beautiful smiling face, my whole body feels lighter. She is shining in front of me.

My North star guiding me home, guiding me home to her.

Notes