As soon as our lips met there was a chorus of ‘You two need to get married.’ My face was flushed with the heat of the club, and embarrassment for my friend’s actions that urged the kiss in the first place.
“God guys, stop. It’s nothing,” almost every word slurred off my tongue. “It’s nothing.”
No matter how many times I insisted that it was a dumb photo-op posed by my friends, I couldn’t wipe that ridiculous smile off my face. I was all too aware of the way he was looking at me. Four years I had gone without him.
I had known him when I was young; then, like it was fate, he waltzed back into my life and found himself thrown into the middle of a hurricane.
I was smiling, and he was smiling, and the room was spinning. I gripped onto his shirt and leaned into his ear, “I need air.”
Stumbling into the night air in just a lace dress, the door to the bar slammed shut behind me and sealed off the pounding music. Priority number one was lighting my cigarette, priority number two was to appear as sober as possible.
Just as my cigarette tip burned amber, I heard the door open and close again, releasing the sounds of very happy and very drunk people into the still city street. “You look cold.” His voice was gentle behind me, and I blew the smoke up towards the sky before turning around to face him.
“I’ve been colder.” I replied, instinctually crossing my arms over my chest.
“Here.” He offered, wrapping his flannel shirt around my shoulders, leaving him in just a t-shirt. Pulling me in close to his body, he tried to warm me up despite my drunken arguments that I wasn’t cold in the slightest.
I took another quick pull of the cigarette before flicking the ashes. Trying not to lean against him in a desperate manner, I exhaled through my nose.
“You know,” he started, “I don’t like the smell of smoke.”
Cocking my eyebrow, I looked up at him. “Ironic, coming from a smoker.”
“Love smoking, hate smelling like I love it.” He mused.
I fiddled with the flannel, pulling it tighter against myself. “Are you sure you don’t want this back?”
“No, no. I don’t need it.”
-
All I kept thinking was this won’t last, enjoy it while it’s happening. I can’t remember what encouraged him, whether I said something surly and adorable, or if he just fucking felt like being the most endearing boy on planet Earth. He kept kissing me on the cheek like he had a reason for wanting me right next to him in that moment.
I felt warm and anxious and looked up at him through my eyelashes, because this was new for me. I never felt confident before, but he made me believe I was beautiful as we sat leaning against each other on the train ride home.
Snuggling in closer and letting out a tired noise, I closed my eyes, taking in the smell of just him.
“I don’t think I want a relationship right now.” He whispered so our friends couldn’t hear our conversation. I could feel his eyes looking down at me, waiting for my response.
I couldn’t help letting out a tired sigh. “I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want.” I said in an understanding tone.
“No, I know… and I appreciate it. I just …wanted you to know where I’m coming from.”
There was a long pause, until I decided to formulate what I was thinking.
“I have trust issues.” I murmured into his shoulder.
He pressed his lips to the crown of my head, breathing in the smell of my shampoo and signature cigarettes. “I know. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Everyone else was either asleep, or completely engulfed in his or her drunken conversations.
“I don’t want to hurt you…” His voice saying those words repeatedly was a mantra I never wanted to end. I looked up at him and smiled, a tired, content smile.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. How much he wanted to, but how afraid he was of rejection.
I quirked up the corner of my mouth and nodded my head.
“Of course.”
