I purposefully slammed my bedroom door when I returned from my morning run to wake up Smith. "Good morning," I call to him as he stirs.

                Smith turns over and rubs a fist against one of his eyes as the other arm stretches upward. He yawns and groans, adding a strained "Mhm, mornin'," in a low, sleepy tone. He scratched his bare chest unceremoniously and untangled his legs from the sheets. It was endearing to watch him wake up, he kind of reminded me of a bear coming out of hibernation.

                I kicked off my running sneakers and unclipped the water bottle pack from around my hips before walking over to the bed and jingling a set of keys above his still rousting form. "I got the car," I told him, leaning over his shoulder and planting a kiss on his bearded cheek as he rolled away from me.

                "Give me a minute," he grumbled, but I could hear the laughter in his voice and feel the rumbling through his back, "I finally get to sleep now that you're not here to kick me all night." He turned his head to crack his eyes open and give me a lazy smile.

                I shoved at his arm playfully and stood up straight. "Please Smith," I joked, "You're such a cuddler, it was the only way I could keep you from suffocating me."

                "Maybe I was trying to suffocate you so you would stop kicking me," he said, and I watched his shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

                "Whatever," I said to stop the back and forth before it began, walking over and picking up our clothes that were strewn across the floor from where they had been haphazardly thrown the night before, "I need to shower anyway, you have fifteen more minutes." I quickly folded up Smith's clothes and draped them over the back of the desk chair before throwing mine into a drawer and stepping into the bathroom. My two neighbors whose room was joined through here had already left yesterday afternoon, so it was nice not having to hurry through my morning routine because of similar shower schedules. I gave Smith a bit of extra time as I enjoyed the cool water after my hot run.

                I dried myself off and ran a hairdryer quickly through my curly hair; enough to not look like a drowned rat. Pulling on the white bikini that hung on the back of my door, I decided that I might have a little fun with Smith.

                "Hey, does this look alright?" I asked innocently, stepping into the room reaching a hand up to rest on the door frame like I had seen countless models do in magazines and advertisements. Smith was sitting on the edge of my bed, his phone in hand, still just in boxer shorts.

                As soon as he looked up, he seemed to mentally stumble as he nearly dropped his phone. "Y...yeah," he muttered, clearing his throat halfway through. He threw his forearm across his lap and leaned on his elbow in what he seemed to hope to be a nonchalant way, but I knew I had had the desired effect on him.

                "You sure?" I asked sweetly, turning around for him and looking down at my hip as if I saw something wrong there. "I could always wear a one piece instead," I muttered, looking up at him through my lashes.

                Smith made a tactical decision and scrambled for his cargo shorts next to him, quickly pulling them on to hide his arousal. "No, I think you look fine..." he muttered, striding over to me and wrapping his hands easily around my waist. He pulled me into a kiss, the feel of his rough hands against my skin and even rougher lips on mine was tantalizing and still made my heart flutter even after all this time.   "Are you really going to make me wait another month before I can have sex with you?" he muttered across my lips, keeping his head bent low and close to mine. The statement caused shivers to go down my spine, and I was half tempted to prove him wrong.

                But then I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped away from him, walking over to my closet to pick out an outfit. "Don't be so crude," I teased, pulling out a pair of shorts and a tank top to throw on over my bathing suit.

                "Oh, sorry," he laughed, "I mean, when can I be graced with the pleasure to make love to my beautiful, tattooed, beach goddess of a girlfriend?" I turned to see him pulling on his shirt and giving me a smug grin.

                "Just for that, I will make you wait," I laughed, beginning to collect my things for the beach.

                "Why is it such a big deal to you?" he asked. His voice was still filled with laughter, but I knew he was asking a serious question.

                "I should be asking you that," I said passively. "I just don't want to rush into it and get everything done and over with so quickly," I lied, knowing that was only part of it and I didn't want him to know the real reason. Smith's promiscuity bothered me more than I let on, and even if he had changed once we started dating, I was still nervous about how he might judge me in comparison.

                "Is this a straightedge thing?" he asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

                "It's a me thing," I said, giving me a small, shy smile and placing a hand in his, "please respect that."

                "I do respect you, but that doesn't mean I understand," he mumbled.

                I sighed and let go of his hand. "Smith, how many girls have you slept with?" I asked him, figuring that we might as well get this conversation over with now.

                "Why does that matter?" he asked, his voice rising in volume, "I haven't touched another woman since we started dating."

                "Just answer the question," I demanded.

                "No," he said stubbornly, "I'm not telling you."

                "Why not?" I asked.

                "Because you don't need to know! Because it's not essential to our relationship," he insisted. "Besides," he added, "shouldn't I know how many guys you've slept with if I'm tell you that?"

                I sat down on the edge of my bed and let out a forced sigh through my nose, knowing this wasn't going to end well. "Multiply it by two and subtract eight," I said resolutely, knowing it would be easier for both of us if we didn't say the actual number directly.

                "What?" he asked, giving me a confused look.

                "The number of women you've slept with," I told him curtly, "We'll say our numbers at the same time." Smith gave me an apprehensive look, but agreed. I gave him a second to do the calculations in his head and then gave a quick "Ready?"

                We both watched each other like two fighters waiting for the other to make the first move.

                "Four," I blurted.

                "Forty-two," he said almost as quickly.

                "Jesus Christ Smith!" I wined, "That's why I don't want to sleep with you!"

                "I'm tested!" he defended, and I felt heat rise to my face involuntarily. At least there was that.

                "That's not what I meant!" I said, still flustered by his comment. "How am I ever going to compare to all of them?"

                "You're honestly worried about me judging you?" he asked incredulously, "Me? Judging you of all people?"

                "It's the only thing I'm worried about," I sighed, feeling my will to fight diminishing.

                Smith's face softened as he walked over to me and knelt down, pulling my hands out from where they were crossed under my arms and holding them between us. "I love you," he said genuinely, giving me a concerned look, "I can't and won't ever compare you to anyone else. There really is no contest." He reached a hand up towards my face and cupped my jaw. "And that's not just with physical intimacy either. You're loving, and kind, and smart and caring," he listed, smiling up at me, "You're absolutely perfect."

                "Alex," I muttered, uncomfortable with all the compliments, "Don't-"

                "But I can't have you thinking that I'm constantly comparing you to others just because I've had a lot of sex partners Amanda," he insisted, standing up and pulling me with him, "and anyway, I've never met a girl who is so beautiful and who has a more gorgeous and amazing body than you, so don't even worry." He pulled me into a hug and I buried my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him as he pressed his lips to my shoulder. He seemed to always know how to calm me down, and I felt somewhat guilty for being so preachy and difficult.

                "I love you too," I muttered, "Sorry I made such a big deal about it..."

                "It's fine," he smiled, pulling away enough so that we could look each other in the eye, "I'm sorry I keep bringing up the sex thing, I really should be more sensitive. It won't kill me to wait a little longer."

                "No, it's my fault for making it seem more than what it is," I assured him, "I normally don't feel-"

                Smith cut me off by pressing his lips against mine, and then said quickly, "I'm tell you it's fine, you don't have to explain yourself to me." He then gave me a mischievous smile and said "Now, I thought I was promised a trip to the beach today."

--------------------------------------------------

                "How about Swedish," Smith said, digging in the sand with his toes.

                "Jag alskar dig," I told him.

                "Spanish?" he asked.

                "Yo te amo," I said, smiling and squinting my eyes against the sun at him.

                "Uh, Polish," he chirped, laughing.

                "I don't know how to speak polish!" I laughed, leaning up against him as the surf came up and washed over our feet and legs.

                After we had stopped over at the motel so Smith could change and freshen up, we took my friends beat up old Chevy on the three-ish hour drive down to Miami. I was surprised it made the journey, for it would often sputter and chirp if I went over sixty miles per hour. Smith seemed uncomfortable with my driving at first (just as I had been when I went to England), but by the time we got there he had loosened up and was singing obnoxiously to whatever trashy pop or hip hop radio station we could find.  

                The beach was pretty crowded with vacationers, but that was to be expected. Smith and I had spent a good few hours in the water, and he had to learn the hard way about the stray jellyfish tentacles that tended to break off the animal and sting your ankles. He also seemed fascinated with the large seashells that dotted the beach, and we collected a few to 'decorate our new flat', as Smith put it.

                "I'm really glad you came," I smiled, absently digging through the sand with the hand that wasn't intertwined with Smith's.

                "I'm glad I got this mini vacation with you," he laughed, letting go of my hand to throw his arm around my shoulder and kissing the top of my head.

                "Are you nervous about moving in together?" I asked, keeping my head on his shoulder.

                "Not at all," he said, tugging at my shoulder and shaking me a little. "I just hope you're able to put up with my shit once we are living together," he joked.

                "If you get too annoying I could just kill you with a frozen leg of lamb and then eat the evidence," I shrugged, earning an annoyed smile from Smith.

                "Well I guess I have nothing to worry about because you're vegan," he replied. I shrugged and gave another small laugh as Smith looked back out towards the water.  "I don't think I've ever seen a prettier sunset," he muttered, and I followed his gaze to where the sun was just starting to dip below the horizon. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and as it went from blue, to pink, to orange, it reflected its colors back across the water, making it seem picturesque. Since we were so close to the equator, the sun set pretty quickly, so it didn't take long for dusk to arrive.

                "I think this is the part where we kiss," Smith whispered, leaning down so I could hear as we continued to gaze out over the water.

                "Like in all those romantic movies?" I giggled. My boyfriend nodded, and I said, "Well, if you insist." I squeezed my eyes closed and filled my cheeks with air, making stupid kissing noises so I looked as unattractive as possible.

                "You're so perfect at ruining the mood," he smiled, stroking my cheek as I smiled regularly again.

                "What? That's how I kiss-" I tried to reply, but was interrupted as he grabbed my face with both hands and smashed his lips against mine as the sun finally winked out over the water. It seemed like the perfect end to an amazing day, and I felt a flutter of hope that everything might turn out alright with us after all.