I don’t even remember the point where her chattiness went from something I hated to something I loved. The sound of her voice, the vibration of her throat, it calms me. Her hands are all across my back, my shoulders, my arms. She traces my tattoos and counts my moles while I doze on her chest. I can feel the vibrations of her voice against my forehead as I doze on her chest. One hand is in my hair, rubbing gentle circles into my scalp.

A long day at the hospital has my chronic pain flaring up- one of the physical manifestations of the pain and trauma I experienced in my years of gymnastics. My left hip and knee are wrapped tightly in elastic ACE bandages to compress the injury, and an icepack is under my knee. When I open my eyes, slowly blinking the world back into existence. I focus my vision by staring at the bottle for her glucose tablets until the words come back into focus. While, mostly. My contacts aren’t in, so everything is a little off.

Her warm, sure hands slide away from my hair and body. They slide to my face, thumbs rubbing across my chin. “You are you feeling, Trin?” She asks, kissing the bridge of my nose. My face breaks into a smile, the expression pulling my lips taught. “Seeing you always puts me in a good mood.” I say, and she shoves my shoulder. I don’t like talking about my pain, and she knows this is me avoiding that conversation. She doesn’t push it, just sighs softly.

She grabs a pill from the nightstand and a glass of water, giving me the pill and tipping the water into my mouth. I close my eyes and let out a long sigh, resting my chin back on her sternum again. She smiles down at me and picks up my face, kissing me. She tastes like raspberries and the Vaseline on lips makes the kiss slippery. When we pull away for air, my lips are glossy. I rub them together and she snorts at me, before I wipe them off on the back of my hand.