A Dream (II)

(Part 1: http://life-passion-love.blogspot.com/2012/05/dream-i.html)

Troy took me home and I asked if he would stay, but he declined and told me he'd be back later. That night I couldn't sleep at all and fought against the thick tangle of blankets while the moon peeked through the blinds. I would grasp at the area beside me in hope of soothing company, but I only found slick sheets.
At the first hint of golden rays, I throw off the covers and surrender the night's battle. Avoiding the mirror, I washed my face without looking up from the sink and neatened the stray hairs alluding to my restless night. Brushing my teeth, I wondered if there were toothpaste flavors other than mint and bubblegum.
The doorbell rang and I ran down the winding stairs before my mother could bother to get up. "I got it!" I yelled in a loud whisper down the hall to her room. Through the glass I saw his blurred figure; he was wearing a puce shirt and grey jeans. He stood on the threshold, contently looking at me, then around the white opening hallway. I stood in the door, breathing in the cool morning air and glancing at my glistening yard, only the moments his eyes didn't captivate mine. He shifted his expression to one with a resolution, and then scooped me up in his arms, without one stray toe set on the tile past the door frame. His thoughtful gesture made me laugh and he kissed my nose while I asked, "Does that mean you're moving in? Or does it mean something else since we're not married?"
He grinned silently at my questions and started to wander around the house. When I buried my face into his chest, I could smell sea salt in the cotton of his shirt and his skin was slightly rough. When I kissed his arm, I could taste the salt and sand on my mouth. Then I noticed little shadows under his eyes. "Have you had breakfast?" he asked when he found his way  to the kitchen.
I shook my head and he set me down horizontally on the cool glass of the kitchen table. There my hair gradually slid off the edge of the glass and hung in soft tendrils while he went to the stove and started breakfast. My eyes drooped while he cooked and black blurred the edges of my vision, carrying me off to sleep for a minute to then carefully bring me back nodding into reality.

Part III: http://life-passion-love.blogspot.com/2012/05/dream-iii.html