She really did it to you this time. You're tangled in damp sheets, feet touching, barely able to move. Between the sun and the temperature of this room and the way she kissed your neck and sucked on your earlobe right near the end there, you're spent. But happy. It had been way too long since you had a day and a night and a morning like this, and you still feel kind of high. That margarita really hit the spot so you had three, and so did she, and here you are, back in this bed where you spent so many nights two months and several years ago. But it feels right, as cliché as that sounds. You're going with it. You don't dare say anything for fear of breaking the spell. Because she always seemed too good to be true, more than you deserved -- as silly as that sounds -- and maybe now you have another shot. "I missed you," she says, and you reach over and pull her hip to yours, and think how nice summer's going to be now that the world's getting warmer.