your red right ankle

So, Sunday night, as promised.

It was nothing huge, nothing monumental, nothing life changing.

there were several times this week it felt as if I’d dreamt it.

That night we had a glass of wine together (meaning I had 2 and a half and he had one)

ate dinner, got under a blanket on the couch to watch a movie.

And then the movie was over, he put down his computer and put his head on my shoulder

I could feel his heart racing, his searching heavy sighs.

I wanted more, but I was paralyzed in my own mind, wondering what we were doing.

it felt like forever, laying on the couch in that position.

I could feel that eventually, he feel asleep,as his head got heavier and heavier on my shoulder.

And then I stretched back and tried to fall asleep and I felt him wake up and just look at me for what felt like another eternity as I pretended to be asleep.

then he got up and went to the bathroom, came back and laid back down, slightly on me, mostly next to me.

then I sat up, suddenly, the tension was almost too much to bear.

I grabbed his hand, our fingers matching up perfectly. I traced the outline of his hand, mesmerized by the touch, by his hands, slightly rough, slightly warm, they seemed skilled, knowledgeable, in mine.

I felt the compulsion for more, more touch, stronger and stronger.

I told myself to go to bed, the wine was getting to my head, but before I did I was going to say goodnight…

and before I knew it I was kissing him, kissing him as if I actually gave a fuck about him, because I do.

and after about a minute I realized what I was doing, I pulled up, and said good night, and stumbled off to bed.

We haven’t talked about it, or been on the couch together since.

He’s actually in my peripheral view right now as I type this.

I still don’t know exactly WHY I kissed him.

besides of course that I wanted to.

Oh, the joys of being young and free.

Happy Friday y’all.

Phoebe