when your arms first collided with me i felt as if i had known you for years, and technically i had, but not in that way. you laughed into my ear and i held fast to your hands because i was drunk and it was late and i couldn't lose this feeling. jello shots were held in the air and as you reached for one i still held onto your hands. i was waiting for the next necessary step, wanting to let the messy drunk hook up run its course, and it didn't. although i pulled your sweater off and tossed it to you in one hasty and indifferent gesture, the feeling of the fabric lingered on me even as i ended the night at home.
when we drank limeade and gin on your balcony i leaned back in my chair and you asked me how my summer has been. as i replied i could see the way you listened to me, how your eyes sparkled and you smiled at me for no reason. i knew then that nothing had died a month ago, and my mistake was written in the way you looked at me.
when i spent the morning at your house and we lay watching tv, our heads were on separate pillows but you later described their closeness as awkward. it was only awkward because we both wanted to be much closer. but we still talked with the ease of friends and it was okay.
when i hugged you i told myself that i couldn't let my lips leave without kissing yours. and so i did. i casually waved goodbye but when i entered my house i swung open the door of my mother's room and jumped on her covers, half whispering and half wheezing that i had kissed him, and that it was great.
but what i cannot describe is when you grabbed my face, looked into my eyes, said my name and whispered "i love you". that is a feeling i cannot reproduce.
i am still holding fast to your hands, miles away, stretching as far as i can, and you are stretching back.
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