Always

Eight

Eight      



            I walk ahead of him with his bag rolling behind me. I have two rooms but I don’t want him out of my eyes. Even though I never thought I would ever be the kind of girl that would invite someone they have only seen three times into their bedroom. But this is different. He’s my boyfriend, quite literally everything I have right now.
            I turn to look at him as we enter my bedroom, he can tell from the open door that it’s the bed I sleep in. I want to read his expression but his eyes are glued to my ass. I clear my throat. He raises his eyes to meet mine but the whole time his eyes travel up my body like he is surveying me.
            There's that smug smile again “I don’t recall you seeming this thick when we last saw each other,”
            I smile slyly back at him and continue to make my way into the bedroom. I leave his bag next to the wardrobe.
            He walks up to me as soon as my hands are free; I place my hands on his shoulders, feeling his biceps. They are really hard “I don’t remember you being this ripped.”
            He smiles and places his chin on top of my head, we’re hugging and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I feel like I am home.
            I can’t help but sober up for a bit. This is too good. I am too happy. How can he make me feel this way?
            As soon as my body goes rigid he pulls away and looks at me “What is it?” he asks looking straight into my eyes. This close to him I can see the honey colored flecks of his eyes, they seem more golden than brown.
            “How can I be this happy just because you’re here?”
            He smiles at me and it’s the smile he gives me when he feels like I am acting my age which translates to being childish “Just enjoy it while it lasts,”
            And that’s the thing, this feeling I have right now will not last. It can’t because he has to go back to wherever he lives and have the life he has.
            He puts a hand on my chin and in the smoothest voice he can muster he says “Don’t do that,” he runs his thumb on my lips “Don’t go there.”
            And before I can pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about his lips are on mine; soft and hard, sweet and offensive all at once. I forget everything other than the way he feels.
            Maybe I’ve never gotten the chance to make out for this long before. I mean all my previous make out sessions were restricted. My first kiss happened at school where I was hoping the teachers wouldn’t catch us; no need to highlight that kissing was strictly against school rules. The other kisses and every other make out session or anything intimate I had with anyone was always quick and brief. They were always stolen moments where I hoped my mother wouldn’t catch me and no one walked in on us and got it back to my mother.
            But here I was in my apartment kissing the man I loved who was actually a man and not just a man because I was calling him a man to gratify myself. My lips were definitely swollen but it didn’t matter at all because he was here and I could touch him. I could feel him. I could smell him and taste him.
            I could do to him all the things I wanted to.
            It feels like magic when our bodies finally become one, I’ve never been so aware of my own body, he kisses me everywhere and it feels like every hidden part of me is finally being seen. I never knew that it could feel like this but now that I am here, feeling all that I am feeling, experiencing everything as though it is my first time I can’t help but utter those three words that were always on the tip of my tongue, the same words that I have never uttered to another man.
            “I love you,” I tell him and he stops moving so he could look straight into my eyes.
            “I love you too,” he says and kisses me until we’re done.