I knew I was interested in her the minute I saw her.
She was beautiful; light red hair, and pale blue eyes. Milky white skin with some freckles. Short, but not too short. Slim, but not too thin. Curves, but not too many. She said she had the body of a 10 year old boy. I disagree. I think she had the body of a 19-year old girl at the time, and man was she gorgeous.
She and I got to know each other better, after we were introduced over lunch. We would occasionally hang out, when the group did. And sophomore year of college went on.
Then it was suggested we all get a suite. I was filled with excitement to live with my new friends. I was excited for people to CHOOSE me, want to live with me, want to hang out with me all the time. And I was excited to live with her. I knew it was wrong. You can't date a suitemate, a roommate, a friend.
More importantly, you can't date a straight girl when you are bisexual and in the closet anyways. But you can hope.
And so junior year went on, we got closer. We would talk. I realized that there was more to you than I thought initially, and that made you more beautiful. You were supportive, you were kind. We would try to take classes together.
But it is awkward to have a crush on a girl you live with. A straight girl, no less. How can this ever happen? You can dream. Junior year went on, and we decided to live in a house. Just a few friends.
We took our selfies, we went to the library. Things were great. But I would hope that instead of a casual hang-out in our living room, we would be making out on the couch. Instead of a road trip to her house and sleeping on the floor, we would be in her bed. That instead of her talking about a cute boy, she'd be talking about me.
One day, our male housemate decided to have a houseparty. José was always into drinking, dancing, hooking up with girls. It usually bothered me, because I had homework to do in my room. But tonight I was free, and was looking to blow off steam.
The party started with just a few people, then more and more people arrived and filled our tiny house.
I drank more rum and cokes as she drank more whiskey sours.
The LED lights in our living room pulsed and the people danced. I drank and danced and she drank and laughed as she became more carefree.
I had been with guys before, a few times...but I had never enjoyed it. And I know that she had never been with anyone. So innocent. All the more reason to not ask her out, or tell her about my feelings.
But the alcohol loosened my tongue and my body, and I danced closer and closer to her.
She laughed, equally carefree, and pulled me closer to her.
We were drunk and laughing and dancing and smiling and dancing and drunk.
Our faces pressed closer and closer together as the jarring bodies pushed us closer together. The music was loud, but my heart was beating louder.
I had my chance and I seized it.
I pressed my lips to hers, softly, briefly, waiting to hear a negative response. Instead, she let go of my hands, and put her hands on the small of my back. She started to kiss me back too.
Her lips tasted like lemons from the drinks she had been making, and they were as soft as I'd imagined. We were kissing so innocently, yet I was finally kissing the girl I had been in love with for two years.