Lost In Us (Lost 1)

"No. I've never been more certain about anything. You are all I’ve ever wanted. I want to get lost in you."

I almost say the words, but catch myself in time and kiss him instead. Slowly. Deeply. Knowing it is scary enough, but saying I love you out loud…

One of his arms slides up my back and he unzips my dress. I wonder if he can tell. If the impetuous beats of my heart or my quivering lips betray me even though no words come out of them?

I feel like I'm back on that plane, with the door open. Ready to plunge. Ready to abandon myself in the free fall, with no one to trust but him. And as his lips caress my neck I decide to take a plunge again. Even though there's no parachute this time.

I pull the cover over my head as the bright sunlight stabs my eyes without mercy.

"Morning, sleepyhead," a voice calls from somewhere. I stretch my arm and a painful twinge pierces my heart. There's no one beside me. I'm imagining his voice. I imagined everything and am actually in my bed, probably passed out from too much work. But it can't be. The mattress is too soft, the sheets too delicate.

I lower the cover slowly, very slowly, and find James at the foot of the mattress, fully dressed.

"Come on, we've got a long day ahead of us," he grins.

"Just give me a minute," I grumble. "I can't think without a cup of coffee."

"The faster we leave, the faster you'll get coffee."

"I need my phone," I say, pressing the bottom of my palms on my eyes.

A soft thump next to my ear tells me I don't have to search for it anymore. I always read one or two random news articles right after waking up, just to give my eyes something to do so they don't shut themselves again. Of course, the past few days I skipped that in favor of obsessively checking my emails for replies from the myriad of applications I sent. And even though it's Sunday, I open my mailbox instead of browsing on news sites.

I instantly leap in a sitting position. "I can't believe this," I yelp.

"You won the lottery?" James chuckles.

"I just received a rejection." I stare at the email in disbelief. "It's not even one of those automatic replies. Someone actually took his time to write this on a Sunday. Man, they must have really hated me. Who the hell sends rejection emails on a Sunday?"

"Somebody you don't want to work for, trust me," James says.

I smile, repeating to myself, as I do every time such an email arrives, that it's not that much of a setback. I've still got tons of applications out. But it’s hard to remove the image of hot oil splattering on me, while I flip burgers at McDonald’s. Who am I kidding? With my spectacular non-cooking skills, they’d fire me in a day. No, I must stay positive. But with each rejection, I can’t help feeling my dream of a bright future slipping further and further away. Isn’t this what college was supposed to do? Ensure I don’t end up jobless? I always studied hard. I never failed an exam. Not once. But there’s always a first. I had just hoped my first one would not be not landing a job.

“You should really make use of your computer science minor and apply for jobs in that area as well. It would widen your options.”

I sigh. This is something I’ve tried very hard to avoid, since I’m not really into computer science at all. I was just too proud to drop it as a minor. But I know James is right. And anything is better than flipping burgers.

James seats himself next to me, holding up the paper plate. There's only one waffle on it.

"You ate one of my waffles," I accuse. I decide not to bring up the email again. There are a million more pleasant things I can say and do on my first day as… his girlfriend, as he called me last night before we both fell asleep. Just saying the word to myself brings a warm, fluttering feeling. Just in my stomach at first, but then it spreads up to my chest and throat with a dazzling, elevating power. I wonder how weird it would look if I would suddenly hug him now.

Very weird, probably, so I just sit back, taking in as much of him as my eyes allow.

"I'm starving," he says.

I take a bite, but the cold waffle tastes a hundred times more disappointing than I imagined it would when I decided last night I was really too full and that I'd better leave it for breakfast.

"You do know I can't go anywhere dressed in that in broad daylight, don’t you?" I point to the black dress on the floor, because his impatient smirk tells me he has the whole day planned out.

He kisses me sweet and soft, with a restrained urgency that wipes away every thought of the email, or anything else, really.

"Wearing nothing suits you best anyway," he says mockingly when we break off, taking another bite from the waffle.

I stick out my tongue, and grudgingly get out of bed. It takes me about five minutes to get fully dressed, and by the time I'm done, I feel more naked than when I had nothing on.

"Should we clean up?" I ask, looking around at the melted candles.

"The cleaning personnel will do it. Let's go."