Tonight,
just as I prepare to head upstairs to bed, Marcelito says to
me,
"Hey, uh, bro...?"
"Yes?" I say a tiny bit sharply. I am aware that he's
angling for a favor--he only calls me "bro" when he
wants something from me. He knows I think it's kind of cute
in a quaintly macho way.
"Well, would it be o.k. if we switch rooms? See, it's kind
of noisy here by the kitchen--and you are a heavier sleeper.
I am really beat..." He looks at me piteously. How can
I say no to my poor sleep-deprived twin?
I shrug and say, "Sure, why not?" He heads up to bed.
The next morning I am cooking some scrambled eggs when Clover
ambles blearily into the kitchen. He does a double take when
he sees me and brushes his long bangs from his eyes and says,
"What the...?"
"What's wrong?!" I ask. He looks ridiculously cute--bewildered,
indignant, and drowsy all at once. Just looking at him standing
here makes me eager to re-enact our sweet frolics from this
spring--god, this suspense is killing me!
He sputters,"How did you beat me down the steps, you were
still in your bed just a minute ago...!?" Now it's dawning
on me what has transpired.
"Upstairs? " I ask pausing. " That wasn't me...so,
who did you spend the night with then, my young buck?"
"Who? Wait...wait a minute! Did you and your twin...trick
me?!" I feel inclined to chuckle, although, right at this
moment, I just want to kiss his rosy, pouty lips.
"No, no, no, not on purpose, anyway " I assure him.
"You can take Marcel to task for that! But tonight, watch
out bad boy, you are mine!" He blushes furiously. He gives
me a quick mortified kiss, and then he's out the door to practice
his cello as the early sun warms the porch.
I
love this shot...