120:Aubrey

It was only an hour and a half to our next venue, in Aguascalientes. I hadn't researched anything, and as we drove through the town in the early dawn light I saw a plethora of cathedrals. They were beautiful, but other than that, I had no desire to go see them. For some unexplained reason I got a weird feeling when I was inside them. I think I identify with the older inhabitants of Mexico, not the Spaniards.

Besides that. I was feeling hot and kind of teary... which let me know I was about to start. I wanted a shower and my books and my bed, and to be cooler.

Rafe was asleep on his stomach, his arms up cradling his head. His back was naked except for his tattoos, and his dark hair lay along his neck short and well-trimmed. I leaned up on my elbow, and studied him in the very dim light of the overhead blue string we'd turned on near our feet. And heads. Neither of us liked the complete dark. His muscles were slack, his arm hair visible, and his face was turned away from me. The blanket was not over him at all, in fact it was down around our feet as I was having this hot, rather claustrophobic flash.

I traced the outline of the tattoos, the mermaid, the castle, the flowers meant for lost loves. I thought about his habits and his idiosyncrasies. I may not believe in tattooing our bodies for religious reasons, but I had to admit, I admired his ink. The artwork was exquisite. He shivered, and I lifted my fingers up till he settled, he pulled one arm close under his body.

I lay my palm against his warm skin and simply let it rest there, feeling the softness of skin, the rise and fall of breathing. I loved this feeling. Observing him while he slept. I remembered the moments when I'd first met him, that kid like beat boxing he'd been doing in my garage, singing under his breath--- did he know he did that almost always? I loved his voice.

I recalled being so tired I literally fell asleep in his massage room and he, himself, had massaged me. We'd had this instant connection. I mean instant. Like recognition, like drastic. I wouldn't call it love at first sight, because I believe love itself takes time and service and decision to achieve, but honestly---- the connection was fascinating.

What allowed two people to feel so in tune to each other? I have this very strong desire, above all other desires, to be close to Rafe. I want to please him. I want to do things with and for him. I want to know what he thinks and feels. I want to give him everything that is in me to give.

It didn't happen all at once. It happened over time and this close proximity with him, but--- once I'd talked to Maille about boys, and she had never had a boyfriend before Kell, and she said the first time she met him she didn't ever want to live without him again. She had to be with him, they both felt that way. And she'd told me that by two weeks in each other's company night and day, she'd known she was to be with him forever. So, marrying him was fine, perfect, whatever it took to be with him always... and forever.

I don't know why I felt so funny about saying yes to a man I'd only known for a few weeks. If it was right and I had prayed about it, and knew it was right---- which I hadn't done--- but if I had--- then it was right and there was nothing to be afraid of. I had no real bad examples.

Mom and Dad were amazing, grandparents were all amazing. Aunts and Uncles were mostly amazing. Siblings had made weird choices, but most all of them were amazing. Brianna had been married twice. Lane had been married twice. But they'd not known prior to their marriages that their choice was right. At a family gathering once, we'd discussed knowing, and praying. Praying on our own and being willing to pray with our spouse.

Rafe and I had prayed now many times. He wasn't afraid to pray. He had always known God existed, that wasn't his problem. Feeling forgiven and worthy was his issue.

He stirred and I raised my hand which had grown warm. As soon as I moved it, I knew he'd wake up. Just the absence of the warmth would chill him. I started to move the blanket, lifting it with my toes and he leaned up on one elbow, squinting at me in the blue light.

He didn't say anything, just lifted his arm, rolled over and pulled me down to his chest. It would have been perfect, and still was, just--- I was feeling so hot and disgruntled and--- seriously claustrophobic.

"Rafe, I--- I need air."

He lifted his arm back up and started to undo the snaps that held our curtain closed. "You okay?"

"Yeah--- I just..." I didn't know what to say exactly. Did one tell their boyfriend it was that time of the month? He wasn't ignorant, and he'd had many women... surely he would understand?

"What?" He was wide awake in typical Rafe fashion, and I felt bad. He'd fallen asleep after me and now was having to wake up early because of me.

"Water?"

He blinked. "I can get you water. I'm right here."

"No. I—I need to get out."

"Out of the bus? Aubrey---."

"I'm okay, I just need---."

"Since when do you not tell me straight up what you need?" He swung his legs out and reached for me with a perplexed expression in the dark. "You're acting like a silly schoolgirl... oh."

"And like a silly school girl, there are things we just don't talk about." I let him help me down and he stood me softly on the carpeted ground. His smile was so tender. He shaped my arms at my sides, looking down at the floor.

"Is there anything special you would like me to get you? A heating pad? Midol?" I moved past him, patting him on the back as I went.

"No. But thanks. You can try and go back to sleep. I'm just going to---- sit out----." I had noticed that Dylan was asleep on the lounge couch. I chewed my lip. "Outside."

He spotted Dylan too. He pulled his hoodie over his tattoos, and slipped flip flops on. He took my hand. "We can go outside, or to a coffee shop, or something."

That actually sounded heavenly. Was there a coffee shop in Aguascalientes that served herbal tea? I stopped in the kitchen. They may not have herbal tea, but I could bring my own and they would have hot water. What time was it? Did he know of any all night convenient bakeries?

Rafe held the bus door for me and shut it very quietly, grabbing the keys to the van on the way out. It was not quite light outside. But Mack was outside.

"Hey Mack." Rafe whispered with a smile, noting with satisfaction that Mack was checking tire pressure.

"Hey Rafe, Aubrey. What's up? Little early for your run." He tipped back his baseball cap so he could see us better.

"Need some air." I said softly.

"Going to take the van and find an all night truck stop or something. There's bound to be a café." Rafe said generously, actually making sure somebody knew where we'd gone.

Mack took off his hat and studied the moon. "Yeah, if you go out here, and turn right, go about half a mile, and there's a strip, a little market area that was open. I think I saw a gas station with a café attached."

Rafe saluted him, and I had to smile at his new gesture. We headed to the van just as Tim--- the amazing watch dog came out of the other bus and headed our way.

"Hey guys, what's up?"

"Nothing. We need a little space." Rafe opened the door for me and I got in the passenger side.

"I'll join you."

"Nah." Rafe said. He held up his phone and my phone. "We won't be gone that long."

"Okay." Tim chewed his lip and then shrugged and went to the other van, the van the security guys typically drove and started it before Rafe could even start ours.

Rafe eyed him speculatively and then he got in and started the van. In seconds we were out of the parking lot and driving exactly where Mack had seen the café. We got out. I noted we were dressed in very casual, if not extremely casual clothing. Rafe had grabbed his wallet and watch on the way out, but we each had on basketball shorts, and I had a red t-shirt and my sports bra, and Rafe had his long sleeved gray hoodie. We both had flip flops.

I must have looked pretty ragged, with no makeup and my hair in a haphazard ponytail, and the bruises....

Rafe had terrible bed head. But he didn't even smooth it out, and you know what? He looked totally fine. I mean--- fine, as in --- fine.

The lights were on, and the darkened windows showed us pulling up to an almost deserted café. There were semi-trucks parked in the parking lot, but hardly anyone was inside. We went in and sat ourselves in a booth, beside each other, and Rafe made sure I was by the window. We were on the side where Tim was parked, and he could see us. I guess Rafe had changed his mind about being my body guard.

The attendant spoke Spanish. Rafe ordered hot water for both of us, and empanada manzanas for him and puerquito for me. I believed he ordered a type of apple dish and a pig donut. Not sure.

He eyed me gently and speculatively. "This is your period, right? I better ask before I assume and get it wrong."

"Yes, and you will never have to ask again."

He leaned back and stretched his legs as our hot water was brought and I stuck my tea bag of red raspberry in mine and his throat tea in his.

"You don't seem upset or anything. What normally happens? I find it's better to ask and risk being embarrassed than get my feelings hurt."

I smiled. "You, my friend, are a very wise man."

"So, are you comfortable enough to disclose such pertinent lifesaving, man saving, ego saving information?"

I laughed and hung my head, shaking it a little. Both hands were on the table. "This is new for me. I'm not usually around anybody as intimately as I am with you."

He nodded slowly. "I see."

"But I guess... I am like most girls. I get some cramps, I feel kind of gross, I would rather not be touched, and smells make me sick. I don't get witchy, as much as teary. Like right now... I feel like I could cry."

He was nodding, and wisely didn't reach out to put his arm around me.

"Any tenderness?"

I glanced at him. He meant what I thought he meant. "Yes." Boobs, down there. I didn't say that though. Couldn't.

"Want to stay on the bus today?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

He sniffed. "Moody?"

"Yes." I laughed. Our donuts came and they smelled hot and heavenly. Rafe split the empanada and turned the pig to face me. I laughed.

"Would you like to do the honors?"

"What honors?" He handed me the knife.

"Kill it."

I laughed softly and took the knife, stabbing the poor piggy, and cutting him in half. We each savored the yummy Mexican pastries and drank our tea in companionable silence until Rafe finally pushed back his plate, only half eaten. "I have man PMS." He said. "It's a scientific sympathetic response brought about by women's hormones in the direct vicinity. I get teary and witchy and moody too."

"Figures." I laughed. "You would."

"I'm not kidding. You will find it easier to deal with me like you have kid gloves on, and are walking on egg shells, than to deal with yourself. You don't want to see me cry."

"I don't care if you cry. If I'm crying for no reason, you can cry too. I don't know if I'll comfort you, probably not. Just saying."

"I'll probably try really hard--- too hard—annoyingly hard to comfort you." He laughed and took a swallow of his throat tea. "More hot water?" I nodded and he signaled the waitress who brought more hot water. I opened the two tea bags and let them steep. He took my hand on the table and traced the fingers, humming to himself.

"What's your favorite feature on yourself?" he asked.

"I don't know. Never thought about it. What's yours?"

"On yourself, or on myself?"

"Yourself."

"I like my stomach. I like looking down and seeing it with a bunch of muscles above it, and a little line of dark---." I grabbed his hands and stilled them to keep him from continuing.

"I love--- your lips. The first night we went out... even before we went out, before we ever kissed, like--- when you were looking for your cat, and later, when we had that water fight and went swimming, out in the water, all bobbing along with the swells, I stared at your lips, you have very expressive lips. Not too full, not too thin, but so expressive they seem both at the same time."

He tossed his head back, blinking in surprise. "Dead serious here, I don't think I've ever been analyzed, at least not my lips, quite so thoroughly."

I laughed unashamedly. I hadn't stopped analyzing them either.

"I like your stomach too." He said softly but with that serious expressive tone he got when he was being sexy. He touched my side, right at my waist, where I would be ticklish, but he didn't tickle me at all, just spanned my waist under my t-shirt. I almost wanted to move away, but I didn't. His touch was warm, and firm, and not poking me. "Here. You have an extraordinary dip, a lot of girls are flat there, straight, and sexy, thin, but you have this smooth dip, like a curve , but not one ounce of spare flesh. Just a rounded little dip." He was massaging my side gently, showing me, where I already knew I had this dip, and I had to wear a belt almost always, and tighter skirts. He smiled. "You have flare."

"I'm built like Mommy."

"Mommy?" His eyebrows raised. "Can you say that again?"

"Like my mom."

"No, the other, what did you call her?"

"Mommy."

"You always call her mommy?"

"Yes. She's my mommy. I'm not too old. My brothers all call her momma."

He blinked hard. "Adorable."

"Stop saying that. It's not adorable, it's just me."

"Okay, just you. I find it very--- endearing, no wait--- cute--- no, not right either, om fascinating--- ." He shook his head.

"How about silly?"

"No, charming. Enchanting. Delightful. Genuine."

I sighed. "Loading it on too thick now."

He chuckled softly. "Bitchy, PMS'y."

"The word is witchy--- don't forget it. Or you will owe me--- double during this time of the month." I leaned into him and he leaned back, glad for the contact.

*****