The Ex Vows

by Jessica Joyce

I crave a mouth against my throat the second before it’s there—teeth scraping my skin, almost biting, a burn that dissolves into throbbing pressure. A deep groan echoes mine. Someone desperate for me. No, not someone. Eli. His sleep-slurred, “Fuck, Georgia,” is pressed against my cheek as I’m gently pushed onto my back. My eyes pop open. It’s not a memory or a dream. It’s now, time as twisted around us as the sheets. Eli’s hovering over me, his chain dangling in the bare space between us. His pupils are wide, mouth parted and swollen from sleep. I want them swollen from me. It’s a fully coherent thought and a terrible idea, and yet— My hands move up his sides with a mind of their own. He shivers, his eyes falling shut, and my body gets heavy again, not with sleep but something hazy and warm like it. I search for telltale signs that Eli’s in one of his dream states. “Where are you?” I whisper. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Huskily, he says, “With you.” “Are you awake?” His eyes are wild and hot, not because he isn’t here. Because he is. “Do you want me to be?”