For some reason, Larry and I are both into trees.
We are sharing my headset listening to David Bowie on my walkman under the Molave. I leaned against the sturdy straight trunk and Larry rested his head on my thigh. I played with his shoulder-length hair by running my fingers on it in an up and down stroke.
He likes it that way.
He is browsing at the random black and white photos he took of me secretly.
"Stolen shots are genuine..."
he says.
One of the photos he took was on the first day that we met. My face was scrunched as I walked on, dragging my bike on the road.
That made me smile.
His photos are mostly portrait, only capturing the face either full or profile. The black and white background gives the photos a nostalgic effect.
It is surreal.
"We've been dating for a month now, we should have an endearment..." said he while playing the hem of my shirt by the waist.
"What is that?"
"Make-up names that lovers use to address each other to show their affection."
"You mean like what your parents call each other? Honeybunch and Cupcake?"
"Yeah! That'd be cool"
"Hell, no!" I protested.
"Common Florante, please?
He crawled on my chest and thumbed my lips." My heart skipped a beat.
"You always talk me into doing stupid things by playing cutesy...I'm not impressed"
"Please...?" He buried his face on my chest and bit it lightly.
"Alright..."
He giggled.
Sometimes I'd ask myself how did I ever end up dating a premature blue-eyed half-breed.
"What do you want to call me then?" I asked looking at his lips.
"Babe, Bae, Hon..."
I cringed at the thought but I was glad there was no mention of Honeybunch and Cupcakes.
"Babe sounds fine to me...simple and not childish..."
"Alright, Babe then!" I was amazed at how easily he was swayed because Larry loves to argue at almost anything.
"And what would you call me?" He asked excitedly.
"Shithead..."
I was expecting a rather different reaction but I'm glad he agreed.
"That sounds tough! I like it." He said.
"You really are a shithead" I muttered.
He gave me a peck by the nose and went back to sleep on my thigh.
He grabbed my right hand and motioned for it to run through his hair.
I did not mind.
For days on end, I mused on how it'd feel like touching Larry's beautiful hair. Sometimes I get jealous looking at him touching his hair with so much adoration.
That's natural right?
"I love you, babe..." he spoke in undertone and drifts away.
"I love you, shithead." I bent over and kissed him on his forehead. He half-opened his eyes and reached for my lips. We rubbed our nose affectionately before I leaned back against the tree. He tilted his head on my lap and closed his eyes again.
Looking at Larry while he's sleeping is the most peaceful thing on earth.