We’ve crossed this threshold many times. I was ready to find out what was on the other side of a kiss. Extraordinary as they were, by the way. I would often close my eyes, get lost in the devotion — and frankly, devouring — waiting to be found.
It took a while to get here, but everything we have sensually discovered about each other was worth the wait. From eyes to fingers to arms, we had touched, learned, and lingered on each other in every way that mattered. I was in love with the unending tenderness, except tonight. Maybe.
“You’re still here.”
“Yes, yes, I am.”
We had a small argument at dinner. The problem was that we both wanted to make the “This one is on me" gesture. We split it 50-50, grudgingly. If the silent walk home wasn’t making it clear that this would not be the night, then the sitting apart on two different sides of the couch was the tell. There was space for the Holy Ghost, like my aunty would say.
“Maybe we should call it a night. I-”
“You’re avoiding my eyes”, I said quietly
Then I stood up and walked towards the open door, shutting it and closing in for that body warmth the night may have stolen.
“Don’t do that,” I said, initiating the first of many kisses that night, ending the war.
Seven hours later, we were letting in the morning sun and whispering for no good reason.
“Thank you for staying.”
“I wasn’t going to leave. Not like that.”
We were wrapped around each other, naked, shy, and laughing.
“This is a good way to wake up.”
“Aye, it is.”
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