We sat on the couch, not too close, but not too far either. We'd been friends for a few years now. Maybe acquaintance was a better descriptor for our connection. We traveled in the same circles, and always seemed to get along well, but I'd never really considered any sort of relationship between us, there just didn't seem to be that spark. Of course, I don't think we'd ever really been alone before and we hadn't really intended to be alone together now, things just sort of worked out that way. I briefly entertained thoughts of elaborate schemes to get me alone, but quickly dismissed them as ridiculous. Ridiculous. That was definitely the word. He'd never expressed much interest in me before, at least not that I could remember.
I tried to concentrate on the movie, but it was useless. The electricity I felt between us wasn't going away. If I closed my eyes I could feel him sitting next to me, feel his presence there. I couldn't believe he didn't feel it. I couldn't believe I hadn't felt it before. Turning my head slightly I watched him. He seemed to be watching the movie, but then so did I. I wanted to touch him so badly. Wanted to feel skin on skin, needed some kind of confirmation this feeling really was coming from him.
I thought back, trying to think of the first time I'd seen him, met him, talked to him. It was probably at one of Meredith's parties, that was really where I knew him from, but I couldn't seem to recall the first time. I relived the times I did remember him, usually amidst a group of friends. He was usually quiet; I really didn't know a whole lot about him. I knew he liked animals, at least dogs; he'd talked about his dog like it was his best friend. My cat had decided elsewhere was a better place to be, so I don't know how they'd get along, but I remember him reacting favorably to a cat story of mine.
I shifted slightly towards him, pulling my legs up Indian style. Now my knee was only about 6 inches from his thigh. Progress! At this rate, we'd be in our 90's before any clothes came off.
I forced myself to focus on the movie for a moment, glad I had seen it before. Yep, this could be considered a slow moment.
"I'm going to get a pop, would you like one? Coke, diet coke, ginger ale?"
I stood up and took half a step towards the kitchen as I asked, turning back to look at him. He looked up from the movie and into my eyes. There was silence for a full heartbeat too long. I had never really noticed their particular shade of blue before, almost grey. In my head, I was halfway back to him, to the couch, when he said
"A coke would be great."
His voice quavered a tiny bit over 'coke' ... what had he really wanted to say? My heart leapt at the possibilities. As I went to the kitchen, I felt him watching me. Blood pounding in my ears, I held the fridge door and took a couple deep breaths, trying to regain my composure. I grabbed the pop, determined to press things further.
Deliberate planning insured I'd get the skin to skin contact I sought, if he wanted his drink. With one glass in each hand, I sat back down; pleased to notice he'd moved two or three inches towards the center of the couch. Towards me. Now there was only about 8 inches between our jean clad thighs. I held his drink out in the hand closest to him, not saying anything. Could not decide what, if anything, should be said at that point. He took it with the hand closest to me. Our arms and hands touched, rubbed lightly against each other. The electricity was real. The electricity was him.
Heart racing, I leaned forward and set my glass on the coffee table. He did the same. I sat back, turning towards him. He said my name as he looked at me, meeting my eyes and then falling silent. The longing, the apprehension, the question β I could hear it all in his voice. I couldn't muster my voice, and he seemed to have lost his. I was taking too long! Fear, doubt, embarrassment were filling his eyes! Nearly in a panic, I leaned forward before he could turn away, and gently pressed my lips to his. Trying to show him what I couldn't find the words for. Slid my lips across his slightly, barely sucking on his lower lip. He finally reacted, I felt his lips moving against mine, felt the tip of his tongue gently brush my upper lip. The universe collapsed into that kiss.
All I could feel were his lips, tongue, teeth. Tasted them. Marveled at the rightness of it. Not a dry kiss, but not too wet either. Not a hard kiss, but not too gentle. Not invasive, but not passive either. This was just right. I felt like goldilocks. I had no idea how long that kiss lasted, it could have been seconds or decades, but eventually I wanted more. I could feel him wanting more too, and yet neither was ready to end the kiss.
Vaguely I felt him slide his hands into my hair, holding my head as I pulled myself across him, straddling his lap. He slid toward the edge of the couch, allowing room for my legs behind him and more of our bodies to be in contact. I could feel the bulge and heat in his jeans, I wondered if he could feel the warmth and wetness in mine.