Friday, February 29, 2008

"you do this thing..."

"... with your eyes..."
What do you mean?
"It's just.. you stare at me. Like through me. It's really intense."
Oh, I'm sorry.
"No, I love it."

And with those few words my mind is sent racing back to the night before. How she was mad at me for taking too long getting ready. And how glad I was to see you at dinner. Wearing a hat pulled down over your still-long hair and cocked over one eye so I could just catch a glimpse of that rich brown with the fire behind it as you looked me up and down walking in the door. I said I was dressed up for the holiday, you knew better. You knew it was for you. The dark jeans, flared at the bottom and hugging my ass at the top, my favorite purple and grey high heels, the brand new silver halter top with a neckline cut down to there. You give me a half smile from beneath your hat and I forget everyone else in the crowded restaurant.

Until you look away and I remember we're out with friends and that means we have to be discreet. Because you say so. Still, as I slide into the corner seat on the booth, you quickly take the spot next to me. You fumble with your jacket and look at me and I smile, of course I'll take it. Our friends order drinks. You don't because you don't drink and I don't because I don't have anything that says I'm of age. So we order dinner and it takes a while but the waiter is quick with our drinks. We all laugh and my fears that this group would be awkward dissolve as everyone settles in for dinner. There are a few moments where I let my hand drop to the booth and brush your knee, knowing you can't help but flinch. You swat my hand away.
I go back to flirting with the person across the table.You notice. Especially when I reach across and say "oh, for that you owe me some of that mojito!" and there's no protest as we linger just a split second too long for comfort.
She's not mad at me anymore and asks me to join her for a cigarette. I don't realize we're going outside so I don't grab my coat and when I ask you to pass me mine, you hand me yours. There's another splitsecond moment where your hands touch mine and you flash me just the hint of a smile and I'm sure my cheeks flush. I slip my arms through the sleeves and pull the sides tight around me, happy to be enveloped in your warmth and the scent of you while we are out in the open.
Flash forward two hours and we're sitting on a couch, closer than we need to be, since the group has thinned to just five of us. But still, now in this more relaxed place, while the rest of us are drinking - and you're sipping the sparkling cider we got you - your hand goes to the small of my back just to remind me you're there. As if I could forget.
We play cards and we all laugh at the half-and-more naked men pictured there. Then suddenly, there are three minutes left. We all have champagne and someone suggests we go each say what we have planned. He says he's going to focus on his music. He says he's going to get all A's. She says she's going to get into business school. I say I'm going to finally get that job at the magazine. We come to you and you say you're going to stop dating crazy people and find someone who makes you happy. We all pause for just a moment. Then we cheer and I yell hell yeah! and you smile and... take a sip of my champagne. Which makes us cheer louder. And you smile broader. You seem happy and that makes me even happier.
Then it's 10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1!!!
We all yell and clink out glasses and I look to you and wonder if you're...
before I can finish thinking it, you pull me in and kiss me and I'm shocked realizing you just did that and there were people standing right next to us. And then I can't stop smiling. You look pleased with yourself.
You're driving me back to your house which is beautiful and not really your space but I love when we have it to ourselves because you're different when it's just us. You start kissing me in the kitchen and I throw my arms around your neck and the only thing I can focus on is your lips on mine, your hands around my waist, cradling my face, taking my hands and leading me upstairs.
The next several hours are a blur, but at the same time crystal clear. I don't remember who undressed whom first, but I remember you approaching me, kissing me hard and pinning me to your bed. I remember kissing back fervently, needing you because I'd been out of your arms, your bed, your life, for too long. I remember you leaning over me, pinning my hands above my head and smiling as I pretend I want to get away. And burying your face in my neck and licking the sweat just starting to form on my collarbone, my chest, my hips. I remember your gasps and every sound you made when I bit down hard like I know you like. I don't remember what you were doing when I dug my nails into your back, but I remember the flash of heat, passion, in your eyes when I did so.
And maybe that's why you remember my eyes. I couldn't take them off you. Intense? I suppose. I remember moments when all I could do was look at you, really see you, and everything I know about you, everything you know about me, everything we have been and everything we will be, was all there in your eyes. I can't describe it well enough or even start to do it justice but know that those moments are my most vivid memories of any from my somewhat recent past. They aren't fading with time.
And, truth be told, I'm counting the days until I see you again. Your smile. Your eyes. Your bed. You.

1 comment:

Fat Controller said...

'Intense' is the word. I love the way this just smoulders with passion!