Something tickles my nose and I stir further, the gentle touch brushing over my cheeks and lips.. I slip closer to consciousness. I peek through one sleepy eye to gaze at you, sitting on the edge of the bed, a mischievous glint in your eye. I smell roses again and I realize it is the soft petals of a single yellow rose that tickles and kisses my skin.. I chuckle groggily.. and futilely pull the covers up over my head– waking is never my strong point. You laugh, yanking the covers away, leaving me shivering slightly at the sudden cold rush of air. My skin gets goosebumps and I growl softly at you, although a small smile quirks at my lips. You brush the rose over my bared shoulders, my collarbone and down towards the scoop neckline of the brief tank I wore to sleep. You shift closer, your hip against mine, brushing the soft petals back up my throat to kiss my lips again. You place it on the headboard above my head and then trace your fingertips lightly over the same path. You move. She was twenty, going on seventeen.But it wasn't Friday night football she was going head for when each school week came to its end. It was my apartment. We both had plenty of homework (even though third-year law school turned out to be a relative breeze compared to the first two years), but we had reserved Friday nights and Saturday mornings for our weekly reunions — spelled O-R-G-I-E-S — in my bedroom. The only difficult part was forcing ourselves to get back to Real World business for the remainder of the weekend.Sally loved everything about college life. She loved the classes, the social life, the dorm — even the school cafeteria! She was making plenty of friends with the other women in the dorm and in her classes, and she seemed to love them, too.And I think she loved me. I hadn't so much as looked at another woman since we'd come back from the island. Well, that's not literally true. I looked at plenty of women –- some of them with great admiration. I wasn't dead, and I was.
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