continuing
She sat, searching within her loss of words. I just told her I thought her something special. For some reason, it caught her off-guard.
"I'm not really looking long-term or for a relationship or anything." She found this phrase at the top of the pile labeled "for hopeful suitors." Her eyes flashed when she said it.
"Neither am I." I wasn't. I watched her lips.
"I just enjoy being single...I don't know how much more time...ya know? If we're going to go from here, it's as friends." I nod. "Have you had many relationships in college?"
"I've had a couple. I'm done with them for a while though." I just want someone to make me smile when I see them. Whose hand sneaks to mine when the privacy is intact. Whose breath reaches across my neck when I pull her closer. It doesn't have to be long term. It can be tonight.
"It just feels like it would take too much time"
(We're driving back.)
"Don't let anything go." I speak for myself, but truly with her in mind. She asks what I mean.
If you go into any situation with the intent of being single, you lose opportunity. Leave that door open...God, I can feel her looking at me as I say this... You may want to be single, but being romantic shouldn't be left at the wayside. "If you feel it, go for it."
She nods.
We're back.
I start a short movie. On the bed, leaning against the wall, we watch the small screen of my laptop. I feel her head drop to my shoulder, her hand move up against mine. I grab. Her other arm drapes across me and I clench and caress the tips of her fingertips. I tilt my head onto hers.
It can be tonight.
The movie ends. I take her home.
"Can I take you out again?" I kiss her cheek and look at her eyes.
"Of course," she pauses. "As friends."
I awake from a dreamless sleep seven months later and find myself intertwined with her. I can feel her legs wrapped around mine and as I press my hand into the small of her back. She arches from the pressure and curls in, the ying to my yang.
It changed last night. Drunk. She passed out early in my bed. Had kissed me in the doorway. Had broken me. Had lost me and won me and found me and tempted me.
I caress her back lightly as I slip my hand beneath her shirt to feel her skin. She sighs. My senses freeze. What have I done? As friends I had said. She’s still drunk. She isn’t sure. I’m kissing her. Why now, why when I leave in three days. I drape myself in her and taste her lips.
I’ve never felt like there wasn’t enough time. And this morning, there isn’t. I have dreamt of being more to her and today I woke up in that dream, but reality has to strike soon enough. Reality sits on the shelf, on the wall, on my wrist, ticking. Everything about this moment is limited to a few ticks, at which point she’ll sober up and realize it’s just me. It’s just me. She’ll look me in the eyes and see friends and writhe away like she has for the past seven months. She’ll hide in the open space next to me and then rush home and return to ignoring my calls. I have to stop.
I stop kissing her.
“Want to get breakfast?” she asks.
I kiss her.
“Yes.”
"I'm not really looking long-term or for a relationship or anything." She found this phrase at the top of the pile labeled "for hopeful suitors." Her eyes flashed when she said it.
"Neither am I." I wasn't. I watched her lips.
"I just enjoy being single...I don't know how much more time...ya know? If we're going to go from here, it's as friends." I nod. "Have you had many relationships in college?"
"I've had a couple. I'm done with them for a while though." I just want someone to make me smile when I see them. Whose hand sneaks to mine when the privacy is intact. Whose breath reaches across my neck when I pull her closer. It doesn't have to be long term. It can be tonight.
"It just feels like it would take too much time"
(We're driving back.)
"Don't let anything go." I speak for myself, but truly with her in mind. She asks what I mean.
If you go into any situation with the intent of being single, you lose opportunity. Leave that door open...God, I can feel her looking at me as I say this... You may want to be single, but being romantic shouldn't be left at the wayside. "If you feel it, go for it."
She nods.
We're back.
I start a short movie. On the bed, leaning against the wall, we watch the small screen of my laptop. I feel her head drop to my shoulder, her hand move up against mine. I grab. Her other arm drapes across me and I clench and caress the tips of her fingertips. I tilt my head onto hers.
It can be tonight.
The movie ends. I take her home.
"Can I take you out again?" I kiss her cheek and look at her eyes.
"Of course," she pauses. "As friends."
I awake from a dreamless sleep seven months later and find myself intertwined with her. I can feel her legs wrapped around mine and as I press my hand into the small of her back. She arches from the pressure and curls in, the ying to my yang.
It changed last night. Drunk. She passed out early in my bed. Had kissed me in the doorway. Had broken me. Had lost me and won me and found me and tempted me.
I caress her back lightly as I slip my hand beneath her shirt to feel her skin. She sighs. My senses freeze. What have I done? As friends I had said. She’s still drunk. She isn’t sure. I’m kissing her. Why now, why when I leave in three days. I drape myself in her and taste her lips.
I’ve never felt like there wasn’t enough time. And this morning, there isn’t. I have dreamt of being more to her and today I woke up in that dream, but reality has to strike soon enough. Reality sits on the shelf, on the wall, on my wrist, ticking. Everything about this moment is limited to a few ticks, at which point she’ll sober up and realize it’s just me. It’s just me. She’ll look me in the eyes and see friends and writhe away like she has for the past seven months. She’ll hide in the open space next to me and then rush home and return to ignoring my calls. I have to stop.
I stop kissing her.
“Want to get breakfast?” she asks.
I kiss her.
“Yes.”