Before even opening my eyes, I feel the warmth of the sun peeking through the blinds on my bare shoulders. I open my eyes slowly, blinded slightly by the brightness in the room. The pieces start making sense in my brain: the posters on the walls, the clothes all over the floor, the guitar leaning against the dresser. I’m in Eddie’s room.

The night before is a blur. I’m pretty sure I drank more than I should have as a headache creeps its way into my skull. Pressing my hands against my forehead, I squint against the light, looking around the room, and then looking at him.

He’s still sleeping, softly snoring, eyes flickering under his eyelids. His hair is a mess, spread all over the pillow and spilling over his bare shoulders. He’s breathing very slowly, and I watch his chest rise and fall for a few moments. Somehow, even after several months, I’m still star-struck by him. He looks so peaceful that I feel like I can’t breathe or I’ll disturb him. He twitches slightly, as if something bad happened in his dreams.

I reach over and gently run my fingers along the line of his jaw, brushing some of his bushy brown hair away from his face so I can keep studying him. The sunlight is washing over him, almost making it look like he’s glowing. His eyes flutter slightly, and he mumbles very quietly. I lean over on my elbow and rest my head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating. He lets out a soft groan, and I feel his arms snaking themselves around me. Now, he’s lying on his side, and I’m completely wrapped up in him. His room feels warm, there’s nothing but a sheet over us, but I don’t care. I snuggle into him, soaking in the warmth of his skin.

He rests his head on top of mine and sighs deeply in his slumber. Thankful that I didn’t wake him, and even more thankful that I get to be wrapped up in his arms, I close my eyes and wonder if I’ll be able to go back to sleep. Almost like a lullaby, I re-play scenes of the last few months in my head.

He is in every single thought I have. There is us sitting together at lunch, him making jokes about the cafeteria food, resting his hand on my thigh underneath the table. There we are, walking down the hall together, my arm around his waist, his arm around my shoulder. Me, watching him play his guitar while I sit on his bed, working on homework. Him giving me a piggyback ride while I’m laughing uproariously, amazed that he can carry me with such ease. The way he looks when he smiles at me.

He tried to convince me that being his girlfriend wouldn’t be easy, but I found this to be untrue. Laughter had never come so easily to me than when I was with Eddie. The more time I spent with him, the more times I saw him in his rare serious moments when he was solemn and quiet, almost as if lost in his own thoughts. Most of the time, though, he was smiling and making jokes and teasing his friends.

My thoughts are interrupted when he kisses my forehead, wrapping his arms tighter around me.

“Much tighter and I won’t be able to breathe,” I mumble softly into his chest. He reaches up with one hand and strokes my hair.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he says softly throughout kisses. I snuggle into him deeper as his other hand rubs up and down my back slowly.

“What time is it?” I ask, trying to stick my head out to see the alarm clock on the dresser. He resists, trying to hold me tighter.

“Who cares,” he mumbles as his grip around me tightens.

I settle in again, realizing he’s right. As my memory returns, I recall that it’s Sunday. Maybe, just this once, I’ll soak in the moment to cherish forever. I can hear birds chirping through the open window and the blinds rustling softly in the wind. A few random pieces of paper, most likely song lyrics, scattered around the room are flapping around slightly every time there’s a breeze. The cool wind tickles what skin is exposed from Eddie’s tight grip around me.

“We can just stay here forever,” he whispers into my ear.

I giggle. “If only.”

He nuzzles his face into my neck, covering my face with his messy hair. I’m enveloped by his smell: the shampoo he uses, a hint of smoke, and a soft, warm musk that I can’t describe. I try to move some of his hair out of my face so I can breathe, and I hear him chuckle softly against my neck.

I work my fingers through his hair, pulling his face to mine so I can kiss him. He kisses me back, but suddenly I pull away. He opens his eyes, looking surprised, as I cover my mouth with both of my hands.

“My breath is probably horrible,” I say with a moan, turning my face away from his. Watch me ruin everything with my rancid morning breath. I hear him laugh, and when I look at him again, he shakes his head.

“You are too much sometimes,” he says, still laughing.

“Seriously,” I say with horror, “I don’t think I brushed my teeth last night.”

He shakes his head again and mumbles, “Go do it, then.”

I try to untangle myself from his arms and the sheets, and he laughs quietly at my effort. It takes a few seconds, but finally I manage to get myself free. Grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste from my bag on the floor, I go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. I glance at myself in the mirror, groaning upon my reflection. I still have some makeup smeared around my eyes, my hair is a mess, and my eyes look tired. After I finish brushing my teeth, I try to clean up the leftover makeup as best as I can. I sigh and shake my head at my reflection, wondering, how did I manage to get someone like Eddie Munson?

He might not fit the regular image of a “hot guy” to normal people, but to me, he is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. His huge brown eyes are like big warm pools that I find myself getting lost in frequently. My favorite thing about him is smile lights up his whole face. His hair is thick, unruly, and long, but I love running my hands through it when I kiss him. The way his forearms flex when he’s playing his guitar makes me weak. He’s tall and trim, not very muscular, but there are so many things that he’d rather do than sports or working out. He’s still strong, though, and he often lifts me up with ease when he tries to carry me or give me a piggyback ride.

I finally give up on trying to make myself look more presentable. At least my breath doesn’t stink. I go down the short hallway back to his room and stop in the doorway.

His bare shoulders are bathed in sunlight. He’s sleeping again, snoring peacefully. I study him, trying to remember everything about this scene. To me, he almost looks angelic when he sleeps. I bet if he knew I was just looking at him while he slept, he might think I’m being creepy. In this moment, I find myself not caring at all.

Eventually, I make my way over to the bed and try to climb over him back to my spot, but he wraps his arms around my waist and nearly body-slams me back on the bed. I laugh, caught by surprise, thinking he was dead asleep. He gets on top of me and starts kissing me with fervor.

Between kisses, I giggle. I can feel him smiling. “I thought you went back to sleep,” I say between kisses.

He kisses both sides of my lips and says, “Nope. Fooled ya.”

“Well, sorry about that then,” I say.

“Sorry about what?”

“Well, I was kind of staring at you for a bit.”

“You were staring at me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Um…” I start to say, trying to decide what to say that doesn’t sound totally creepy.

He meets my eyes, and it feels like he’s looking right through me. Finally, I sputter, “You’re so gorgeous, and you look so peaceful, and…”

I stop because he’s laughing. I frown at him, feeling my cheeks turning red. I try to turn away from him so he doesn’t see, but he pins my shoulders down so I can’t move away from him.

“Gorgeous?” he said, sounding exasperated.

“Well, yeah,” I mumble, trying to bury my face into his chest. I feel his laugh through his chest right up against my face. After a second, he maneuvers himself so he’s leaning over me, his chin resting on my stomach. I think to myself, does he have the ability to make his eyes look bigger? Because they look huge right now.

“Stop it,” I say, this time feigning embarrassment and trying to hide my face in a pillow. The way he looks at me, I know he’s not judging me.

He chuckles, pulling the pillow away from me. “Nobody has ever called me ‘gorgeous’ before.”

I shrug. “Well, I just did.”

He slides himself up so he’s right over me, putting his hand on the side of my head. Looking right at me, he says, “Sweetheart, you’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

It’s been months, but when he says things like that, I still get a rush of butterflies through my gut. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to his voice, his eyes, everything he does that makes me crazy.

I sit up slightly, leaning on one elbow and resting my other hand on his cheek.

“Eddie Munson, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. I still can’t believe that you’re with me most days. It’s like I’m still dreaming when I’m with you.”

A big smile breaks his face, then he takes his hands and covers his face with them, rolling over so he is face down on the bed. Another thing I love about him? He feigns drama so often, in so many things that he does. He never does anything halfway. He’s blushing, and he’s trying to hide it from me.

Everyone else around us has a picture of what he’s like in their heads, but only I get to see the truth: at his core, he is goofy and can be shy, and he isn’t used to getting compliments.

I sit up and try to wrestle with him so I can see his face, but he is strong, and he resists me easily. After a while of this, I decide to play him at his own game.

“Well, fine,” I say, making a big show of getting out of the bed. Before I can get far, he grabs me around the waist again and tosses me back onto the bed, laughing and covering me with kisses.

“Ooh, big scary Eddie!” I say through my laughter as he intermittently kisses me all over and blows raspberries against my bare skin. After a few seconds we’re both breathless with laugher, and he collapses next to me. After we catch our breath, we both turn to look at each other. He smiles and says, “Where did you come from?”

“Me?” I respond, “Where did you come from?”

“Chaos and disorder, mostly,” he says with a chuckle.

I shake my head.

He just smiles and pulls me back into his arms, and I gladly oblige. He absentmindedly runs his fingers over my hip, around my back, and then up to my neck, where he takes a lock of my hair and twists it in his fingers. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing softly. I find myself just studying him again as I run my fingers along his jawbone and up to his ear. He sighs deeply, then opens his eyes and gazes back at me.

I smile, feeling myself turn red again, because he’s doing that thing he does where he seems to look right through me.

“How do you do that?” I ask him.

“Do what?” he replies.

“Look through me like that. I feel like my brain is being probed or something.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been probed by me before,” he says with a wink. I grab the pillow, hitting him with it.

He laughs, taking the pillow and tucking it under his head. “Be serious,” I say scoldingly.

He tries to hide his smile but fails. “I’m sorry sweetheart.”

I raise my eyebrow at him, waiting for him to answer the question.

“I really don’t know, I guess most people are scared by my mind-probing.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I say matter-of-factly.  

“You should be,” he says with a cheeky smile.

“I’m only afraid of losing you,” I reply softly.

His smile fades. He tilts my chin up to meet his gaze. “You won’t.”

“You can’t promise that.”

He just looks at me for a while. I feel my eyes getting watery and I look away from him. It’s just like me to ruin everything. Until you opened your big mouth, everything was great.

I glance back up at him, and I see he has a puzzled look on his face. After a second, it goes away, and he gazes at me again. It’s quiet for a few more moments as I try to discreetly wipe my eyes. He beats me to it, though, as he gently catches a tear on his finger.

Then, he sits up and holds my face in his hands, so I’m forced to look right at him. In his big brown eyes, I see warmth, patience, gentleness, and kindness. There’s a lightness in his eyes too, like he’s deliberately softening his gaze to reduce the intensity. I feel like I’m getting lost looking in them again.

Up until this point, nothing had ever been easier than being around him. All the stares from people at school, my parents’ hesitation about him…nothing mattered when he smiled at me. I didn’t care what the rest of the world thought because they didn’t know him like I did. So why suddenly am I being emotional and weird? Stop it, you’re going to freak him out.

But then, Eddie Munson surprises me yet again.

“I love you.”

He says it softly, but he said it.

My breath catches in my throat. I feel myself choking on my own spit. My heart jumps through my chest and into my throat. Hot tears burn behind my eyes. He’s still looking right at me, waiting for me to respond. I’m hoping he doesn’t think I’m being indecisive by not saying anything right away, but honestly, my mouth feels like it can’t form words. At this moment, I’m still trying to remember how to breathe.

A few more seconds go by, and he starts to frown. He drops his hands from the sides of my face, but I quickly grab his hand and press it back to my cheek. He looks at me again, waiting.

Finally, I find the courage to say it, even though it terrifies me.

“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, Eddie Munson.”

He looks down, smiling. “Only pretty sure?” He then looks back up at me, grinning.

A breath catches in my throat, and I choke out a laugh. “You are such a shit sometimes.”

He laughs and pulls me into him, kissing me. Both of my hands are tangled up in his hair, and he’s gripping me tightly, kissing me more deeply. We both try to get closer and closer to each other, but soon we’re pressed so tightly that we can’t move. He sits up and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him, my arms wrapped around his neck. He’s holding on to my waist and he pulls me in as close as possible. He moves down to my neck and shoulders, covering every inch of my skin with his lips.

I rest my head on his shoulder, breathing heavily. Why do I always forget how to breathe when I’m with him? He’s still kissing me all over, then he very softly bites the skin between my neck and shoulder. I wrap my legs around his hips, trying to get even closer, and wrap my fingers in his hair. He shifts so I’m on my back on the bed, and he’s still kissing me all over. He starts moving down from my neck and my collarbone to my chest, all around my shoulders, then back over my chest, and then down to my stomach. My skin feels like it’s on fire everywhere he touches. He goes agonizingly slowly down my body, putting his lips on every inch of my skin.

Right when I feel like I will burst, he grabs onto the waist of my shorts, pulling them down slightly as he kisses around my navel.

Somewhere deep inside myself, I find a burst of courage. Before he knows what’s happening, I’ve shuffled my position and flipped him on his back on the bed. He laughs, looking at me with an amazed look on his face. I get on top of him so I’m straddling him, and I run my hands all over his bare chest. Then, I lean down and kiss him, taking his head into my hands. His hands are on my hips, and as they slowly make their way up past my chest and onto the sides of my neck, the heat between us seems to reach the boiling point.

We’re kissing with an urgency that we never have before. My heart is pounding, and every nerve cell in my skin feels like it’s burning. The hunger for more closeness increases, and in my head, all I hear is more, more, more. He is responding with equal zeal until he pulls away slightly, taking a deep breath. He chuckles, gazing at me, and running his hands through my hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says breathily, as if all the air was just coming back to his lungs. I try to catch my breath too, feeling like I hadn’t taken a single breath in God knows how long. It still feels like bolts of electricity are burning across every inch of my skin, and a rush in my stomach tells me the butterflies in there are still raging. With his hands on my hips, he gently guides me back to the bed, right by his side, and keeps gazing at me. We just lie like that, looking at each other, and all time and space seems to disappear in his eyes.

“Sometimes this still doesn’t feel real,” I finally say after a long silence.

He leans on his elbow so he’s leaning over me, and he keeps running his fingers all over every inch of my skin that he can reach.

“What about it doesn’t feel real?” he finally asks.

I shake my head. “Everything, like, this kind of thing doesn’t happen in the real world. It only happens in sappy novels.”

He stifles a chuckle. “Who told you that?”

I shrug. “I guess life taught me that.”

“You’re not old enough to be that cynical.”

“Oh, and you are?”

He juts out his chin. “Why yes, I am.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, forget it.” I break our gaze, but it’s characteristic of him now to guide my face back to his eyes with his hands. It’s almost like he’s not through with me yet, and he won’t let me go. He looks at me and smiles. I think he knows he can break down all my walls with that damn smile of his.

“You feel real to me,” he says quietly. He’s still running his fingers all over me, so slowly. He breaks eye contact for just a moment, and then he’s back to looking at me.

“Well, that makes one of us I guess.”

“So, you still think that I’m a figment of your imagination? That I only exist in your dreams?”

“You exist there plenty already as well,” I say, blushing.

He raises his eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

I just nod, turning more red.

“And what does Eddie the Banished do in these dreams?” he asks, his signature devilish smile splashed across his face.

My face must look like a tomato by now. “Kind of what you’re doing right now.” He shifts his body so he’s on top of me again, and his face is right above mine.

“How about this?” he says, running his hand from my knee up to the side of my thigh.

I gulp, loudly. “Yeah, something like that.”

He reaches his hand up until it’s in my shorts, on the side of my hip. I nod quickly, feeling a rush of fire start from my belly and up into my throat. It’s difficult to breathe normally when he’s looking at me like that. He kisses me, gently and softly at first while his hand is still on the side of my leg inside my shorts. The intensity builds as his touch moves from the side of my thigh to my inner thigh. I feel like if I don’t get control of myself, I’ll start visibly panting. How have I not completely embarrassed myself yet?

His sense of restraint appears to be quite remarkable because he takes his time touching and kissing every inch of me that he can with the lightest touch. I can’t help but shiver, wanting his touch to be harder. More, more, more.

Eventually, my world is nothing but Eddie Munson. Everything I see, smell, taste, and feel is him and only him. Everything around us has fallen away and nothing exists but the two of us. He consumes my entire world as his touch gets firmer on my body. A hunger is consuming both of us, but somehow, he’s still moving so slowly, as if time doesn’t even exist anymore. It seems like he’s waiting for the implosion that is sure to consume both of us if something doesn’t happen immediately.

When he presses his body against mine, it feels like shockwaves are alternating through us. All of my senses are filled with everything about him that I’m so attracted to: his smell, made up of his laundry detergent, his shampoo, and a slight smokiness that defies description, his strong arms and hands touching me everywhere, his humongous brown eyes (“puppy-dog eyes” comes to mind), and the heat that radiates off his skin as I kiss him everywhere I can reach.

I close my eyes, focusing on every single sensation. His touch is so delicate and light as a feather, he lips just barely grazing my skin. It feels like my brain has turned into mush. If you had asked me anything, like what two plus two is, I would probably have no idea. He has filled every single space in my brain and throughout my body, and he has simply become the whole world. My hands are all over him, running across his soft skin and through his curly hair.

Despite many people calling him Eddie the Freak, he is nothing but a perfect gentleman, briefly pausing and meeting my eyes intermittently, seeking my consent. He alternates between tenderness and vigor, reaching all the deepest parts of me that I didn’t even know were there. I’m irrevocably drawn into him; so much that the deepest we can go still doesn’t feel deep enough. He is attentive and gentle, magnetic, and passionate. Somehow, thoughts of me getting to his same level don’t even occur to me when everything feels so natural, like all the pieces fit together perfectly.

The sun creeps higher in the sky, the room gets brighter, and the heat feels balmy on my skin. A spontaneous breeze makes it way through the window. A dog barks from somewhere outside. In the distance, people are going about their weekend activities: getting the mail, mowing the lawn, going for a walk. Wherever it is that Eddie and I go together, it feels like a crash landing to come back to reality. I’m not ready to leave, and I hope he isn’t either. I look at him, laying beside me, his breathing coming back to normal. He turns his head and looks at me, smiling.

“I’m all real, sweetheart,” he says after a while as he touches my cheek.

I shake my head. “No way, not possible. Not real.”

He grins. “What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

“You can’t do anything. It’s hopeless.” I feel a small smile creeping across my face as I look at him. He smiles back at me and kisses my forehead. He takes one of my hands, kissing my palm and the inside of my wrist. When his head rests in my hand and he closes his eyes, I say it with more courage.

“I love you, Edward Munson.”

He opens his eyes. “Really? You gotta say my full name when you say it? Ugh.” I laugh as he grins at me.

“Just want to make sure there’s no confusion or anything.”

He shakes his head at me, his long brown curls swaying back and forth. “And you say I’m a shit sometimes.”

I shrug. “You are.”

“Is the Eddie in your dreams a pain too?”

I nod. “And he has six-pack abs. And a really nice motorcycle.”

He opens his mouth, as if shocked. The entire time, I’m smiling and laughing, teasing him just like he teases everyone else. Eventually, he smiles back and shakes his head again.

It’s quiet for a while. We both just lie together, our eyes closed, trying not to crash land back to reality just yet. His breathing is slow and quiet again, and I resume cuddling up to him close.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” I whisper.

“Deal,” he replies.