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Gazing across the lip of my coffee mug from my doorway, steam rising into the chill morning air... I watch as he walks down my driveway. His clothing is rumpled, his hair's a mess, but that sleepy way he runs his fingers through his curly locks and the way his casual steps make his ass move in those tight jeans makes the view something I want to remember for a while. As he gets into his car at the far end of the driveway, he turns to glance back at me watching from the doorway. He grins then, and I remember how he got through my bubble of indifference. That smile. Damn. He waves, a short little movement of his hand, fingers wide, more of

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