organizedchaos
11-15-2010, 12:11 AM
It was 3am. I was frazzled, he was cold from biking. He invited me in for hot tea. I was in sweat pants and slipper socks. He went into his room, and came out with that stupid grin of his - he had changed so that he was also wearing sweat pants and slipper socks. We both sat in the warm energy of his kitchen, safe from the cold bite of outside air. I didn’t know where to start.
“You’re driving me crazy.” I said. I leaned over and kissed him. He spoke back to me as we went back to our usual ways.
The tea was ready. We brought it into his bedroom and sat on his bed. We just sat there in frozen time. The silence was comfortable. We kissed. Word vomit on my end -“Do you just want to have one more night of fun and not call each other for awhile?”
I thought he’d be up for it, like most guys would in their plight for physical action. But, surprisingly, his eyes diverted mine. “If that’s what you want.” His reaction showed that he cared for me more than my body. In an awkward silence, we both consider the intention of that statement. We hold hands, he starts rubbing my forearm, giving me his care and energy. I exhale, let my shoulders release the overwhelming feelings flying around inside of me, and I lean over and kiss him on the forehead.
“You are a good person,” I say - because he is.
I sigh. I lay on my back, side by side next to him. Unsure of what to do. How to act. We are stilling holding hands. He rolls over on his side so he is facing me. I do the same. We just lay there, looking at each other. The silence is now comfortable. My eyes glaze into my thoughts and I lose focus. I regain clarity quickly but find that he is still looking at me. His eyes are glittering with care, with good intention. He says he owes me a back rub. Beside myself, I nod, and slightly laugh - “I need one right now.”
He rubs mostly my lower back, reminding me of how good his hands feel on my skin. I melt into his touch, for whatever it’s worth. I’m not sure if I’m resisting or giving in.
But he turns me over and kisses me. And it’s history. Natural, comfortable, sweet history. We speak to each other with an absence of words, finding an end to what has been and a beginning to what will come.
I wake up the next morning, snuggled in that brown sugar skin of his, kiss him on the cheek, grazing over his lips, and say, “I’m not going to be able to see you for awhile.”
“I understand.”
Silence.
Gratefulness. “Thank you for treating me like a person."
It's all I can say to explain the warm feelings inside of me. He kisses my forehead and pulls me closer into his warmth. And together, we lay in each moment, making whatever we are last just a little while longer into the soft morning light.
Finally, there is closure.
“You’re driving me crazy.” I said. I leaned over and kissed him. He spoke back to me as we went back to our usual ways.
The tea was ready. We brought it into his bedroom and sat on his bed. We just sat there in frozen time. The silence was comfortable. We kissed. Word vomit on my end -“Do you just want to have one more night of fun and not call each other for awhile?”
I thought he’d be up for it, like most guys would in their plight for physical action. But, surprisingly, his eyes diverted mine. “If that’s what you want.” His reaction showed that he cared for me more than my body. In an awkward silence, we both consider the intention of that statement. We hold hands, he starts rubbing my forearm, giving me his care and energy. I exhale, let my shoulders release the overwhelming feelings flying around inside of me, and I lean over and kiss him on the forehead.
“You are a good person,” I say - because he is.
I sigh. I lay on my back, side by side next to him. Unsure of what to do. How to act. We are stilling holding hands. He rolls over on his side so he is facing me. I do the same. We just lay there, looking at each other. The silence is now comfortable. My eyes glaze into my thoughts and I lose focus. I regain clarity quickly but find that he is still looking at me. His eyes are glittering with care, with good intention. He says he owes me a back rub. Beside myself, I nod, and slightly laugh - “I need one right now.”
He rubs mostly my lower back, reminding me of how good his hands feel on my skin. I melt into his touch, for whatever it’s worth. I’m not sure if I’m resisting or giving in.
But he turns me over and kisses me. And it’s history. Natural, comfortable, sweet history. We speak to each other with an absence of words, finding an end to what has been and a beginning to what will come.
I wake up the next morning, snuggled in that brown sugar skin of his, kiss him on the cheek, grazing over his lips, and say, “I’m not going to be able to see you for awhile.”
“I understand.”
Silence.
Gratefulness. “Thank you for treating me like a person."
It's all I can say to explain the warm feelings inside of me. He kisses my forehead and pulls me closer into his warmth. And together, we lay in each moment, making whatever we are last just a little while longer into the soft morning light.
Finally, there is closure.