Page 19 of Crash
“I felt the wave of tension pulsing between us. The slight hand touches that we played off as accidents. The unintended innuendos that kept us laughing, or the brief moment when my song was played on the music app and you danced with me under the stars because I told you how I hated missing my senior prom because I caught the flu. The way you held me in your arms, you had to know what you were feeling, because I knew. Courtney sure as hell knew because she woke up and saw us outside.”
“Slow dancing is about all you can get from me,” I laugh. “Why did you play it off all these years?”
“You had a girlfriend, even then. I thought it would be one of thosethe one who got awaymoments. So, I didn’t push. I eventually dated other guys and thought I’d get over you. It didn’t happen. They were missing something. To be honest, they weren’t you.” Her hand travels down my arm to my hand, and to my thigh, finally resting on my chest.
I tilt her head up and nuzzle her neck at the apex where it meets her shoulder. “I wish you would’ve said something then. We could be working on our fifth year together,” I mumble.
She leans back and places her hands on either side of my face. “We can start those years now.”
She kisses me, and the taste of her fruit-flavored mints lingers on her tongue and sweetly invites me to deepen my affection. The passion returns more feverishly, but the emotions are different. This time feels like the first time without any hang-ups.
I slide my hands up her side, feeling her smooth skin beneath my fingertips, before rolling her onto her back; hovering above her while staring into her eyes. She goes to remove her top, but I push her arms away.
“I want tonight to be like that night,” I say.
Fumbling for my phone, I pulled up the song we danced to under those stars and lay beside her in my bed, holding her hand. We talk for hours about the day-to-day of our jobs. From the most rewarding aspect to the most terrifying parts. And wouldn’t you know it, the sunlight peeks through my blinds, letting me know morning has arrived. Just like that night, only this time, instead of her crashing in my sister’s room and me heading back to my first apartment, she’s here in my arms.
