A little fiction
He reached out to grab my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine so seamlessly that I hardly noticed but to feel the jump in my heart. Sure that I was the one to fill his mind tonight. Such a small declaration to produce so much anticipation. His eyes looked soft and steady, straight ahead, leading me. His ease left me feeling completely free. Walking toward the night with nothing but our desire to leave everything else behind. Nothing mattered. Northing needed to make sense. In this moment all we had was flesh and bone and endless possibilities. I had known him for a lifetime of two years, and I hardly knew him. He scared me with his assuredness. He was like a stray arrow, so pointed but with a reckless abandon. He stopped walking and turned to me. I stood without question. The look in his face, the kind of look that makes me feel like everything I am is at stake if I don't let go, caught me off guard enough for him to pull me in. As soon as I felt his lips pressed against mine, I tasted hope. He tasted how the summer rain feels in an August heat wave. He washed over me, and it was as if my skin wanted to absorb him into my pores. I pressed my hands hard against his back until I could feel his heart beating in my chest. Thump. Thump Thump. It felt erratic and bold. Safe and comforting. I got lost in the rhythm, and I knew that that was where I belonged. I would give him everything that no one else had ever known about me. I didn't care that everything was uncertain. Sometimes love is not named, but it's love all the same.
Photo by Jenna Jacobs on Unsplash