Sunny wakes up as I’m polishing off my midnight meal. A pile of cleaned-off chicken wing bones sits next to the Styrofoam container. Sunny stretches, and the blanket I’ve covered her with falls so her nipples peek out.

“What’re you doing?”

“Staring at your boobs.”

She blinks blearily, pulling the blanket up to cover the goods and leans forward to inspect what’s in my bowl. Her nose crinkles in that cute way that tells me she’s grossed out. “Your bowl is an animal graveyard.”

“It’s delicious, though.”

“You like a box of death for a snack?”

“It sounds way less appealing when you say it like that.”

She stands, dropping the blanket on the floor. “I’m going to bed.”

I drop the last bone in the bowl. “Hold on. I’m coming, too.”

“You can’t leave those there.” She points to the death bowl. “Andy will eat them and be sick.”

I rush to clean them up as she heads for the stairs.

Tonight’s the last night we get to sleep together. Tomorrow morning she’s leaving on that stupid road trip. I need to make sure I’m on her mind while we’re apart. I don’t try for sex again; I go for a snuggle instead. Sunny falls asleep wrapped around me, her warm cheek on my chest.

***

I wake up to terrible, humid breath in my face. I crack a lid to find Andy’s nose an inch away from mine. “Hey, buddy. You need a mint.” I roll over, but Sunny’s side of the bed is already empty. It’s only seven in the morning, still early, but she’s leaving in a couple of hours, so I drag myself out of bed, throwing off the heavy hands of sleep. I don’t bother with boxers. My plan is to find her and use my morning wood to my advantage.

When I reach the stairs, I’m hit with the sweet smell of cinnamon. Sunny can bake, as evidenced by the treats in the freezer. Her cookies are the best. I snicker as I take the stairs down to the kitchen. Now that I’ve eaten her cookie, I have all kinds of dirty baked-goods jokes. Unfortunately, it’s another one of those things I can’t share with the guys.

I find her in the kitchen. Her hair is still in the same braid from last night, except it’s a mess. The sun streams in the window over the sink where she’s rinsing fresh fruit, the light catching the fine blond flyaways, creating a halo. She’s wearing shorts and a tank top, and she’s braless.

She doesn’t notice me right away, so I lean against the doorjamb to watch her. She hums along to the radio as she peels peaches. I wish she wasn’t leaving this morning.

I circle around behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. It would be so easy to get her naked and get inside her right on the counter. She gasps, and at first I think it’s out of surprise, but then I notice the fine line of blood welling across the pad of her index finger.

“Ah, shit, Sunny. I’m sorry.” I shimmy us over to the sink, turn on the tap, and adjust the water temperature. When it’s cold I put her hand under the stream. So much for a good-morning surprise.

Sunny turns her head away, pressing her cheek into my chest. “Is it still bleeding?”

I put pressure below the gash, checking to see how bad it is. It’s a clean cut, and it’s not too deep, just a surface wound. Blood wells again so I move her hand back under the water. “It’s not bad. It doesn’t need stitches or anything.” I kiss the top of her head.

She does this shuddery thing.

“You got bandages down here?”

“I think there might be some in the drawer.” She flops her hand in the general direction of the cupboards to our right.

“I’ll get one, then?” I can’t move until she stops leaning on me.

“I think I need to sit down.” The words come out all drunken sounding. Then Sunny slides down my body. I catch her under the arms before she hits the floor.

“Sweets?” I crouch, using my shoulder to stop her head from lolling around. Her eyes are rolled up, and she’s total dead weight. She fainted. I prop her against the cabinets, adjusting her limp body so she won’t fall over. This isn’t going the way I planned.

The paper towels are a couple inches out of reach. To prevent her from falling over, I stand in front of her, bracing my thigh against her shoulder to hold her up. It isn’t the best position, well, not for the situation, anyway. My dick is two inches from her face, and I’m naked.

She starts to come to as I snatch up the paper towels. Ripping off a couple of sheets, I reposition to crouch again, but she wraps her arms around my legs and face-butts me in the junk. I grunt, pain shooting up my spine and nailing me right in the back of the throat. Bile comes with it, as does the sensation that my balls are going to forever reside below my Adam’s apple.

I drop to the floor in front of her, gritting my teeth. My vision blurs and then clears.

“Miller?” She’s all breathy and confused.

I feel her palm on my cheek. Her piercing scream makes my ears hurt as much as my balls. Then she faints again.

I wipe at the damp spot on my cheek and check my fingers. There’s a faint streak of red, almost dried already. I wet the paper towel and wipe my cheek until it comes clean. Then I wrap a clean paper towel around her bloody finger and wait for her to come around a second time. My balls still really fucking hurt, but they’ll be fine in a couple hours. A face-butt to the groin is nothing like a puck or a stick to the cup.

Her eyes flutter open.