We talk, and we are joking, flirting, constantly. Touching, staring, and wishing. You invite me on your outing, in your cart. I'm excited. I know there will be plenty of opportunity to be touching, fingers lingering for a bit longer than they could elsewhere on this planet.
You walk with me to our cart and we set off, we are ahead of everyone. Our knees brush. I am squealing and laughing.
We go through the tunnel – the tunnel of love and nothing happens. My heart is beating out of my chest, I want you to kiss me, I want you to touch me. I want you to do something to let me know this is how you are feeling too. And its freezing. I'm bold and take the wheel. Driving us towards our destination, both geographical and figurate. My hands are cold, so you take my right hand in both of yours, pressing it, rubbing it, warming it up.
You get back behind the wheel and I cuddle into you, linking your arm, our knees touching. You don't seem to mind. And we talk about our silver and gold, the feelings growing in my heart almost too much to bare. We take a photo. Cheeks almost touching, and go through the tunnel again. I tell you to kiss me, and present my cheek. Why didn't I turn to make you kiss my lips. Why didn't I take advantage? Because I was scared of you pulling away. It would have been hard to laugh that one off. But I don't think you would have.
"Kiss me..." you lean into me, shutting off your cart. I give you my cheek, waiting until your lips are near... and I turn, so your lips brush past mine, lightly grazing over them with your lips.
Your eyes are closed. I hold my breath as your hand comes up to my face, lightly cupping my check, brushing my hair back from my face.