You’re all four seasons rolled into one

I am feeling all writey today. So I’m going to write a brief piece of fiction. There is no back story. There is no real reason for this. Maybe nostalgia. Maybe I’m wishing for a future and i’m trying to write it out to make it true. Whatevs. Here is. Read and perceive at your own risk and all that.

I lick my lips in anticipation of his kiss. I am so sick of forced entries. The violation of the tongue down my throat and the agression that causes our teeth to gnash together. I hate that the most. A perfectly good kiss can be ruined but teeth gnashing. I want this kiss more than I have wanted a lot of things lately. His perfect Bambi eyes are trained on my mouth but he does not make a move. The light brown is perfectly framed with luscious lashes. His lids are low and I am enraptured. He does nothing. Maddening. This is maddening. I pull back for fear of rejection. I push a stray bit of my dark hair behind my ear and look to the floor. My toe nail polish is chipping and I curl my toes in embarassament. He is not looking at my sandaled feet. He is looking at my lips. I bite my bottom lip in confusion and frustration. He pulls me closer by grabbing onto my jean belt loop. I place a hand on his chest. I feel his heart beat through his thin cotton t-shirt. I am poised for the perfect kiss. My head is tilted upward and slightly adjusted to go right. His full lips part. I’m ready. He leans forward and delicately places a kiss on my forehead. I sigh in contentment and with wanting. He cups my chin and softly rubs it with his thumb. I bite my lip again. My mind is going four thousand times a minute. My mouth ruins this completely perfect moment; ” Just my forehead?” He laughs at the ludicrous words. The thoughtless manner I had spoken them. I amuse him. He kisses the tip of my nose. I giggle like a teenager. I am frustrated, yet amused as well. His eyes are searching again. This time my eyes. What is he trying to see? I scrunch my nose and he laughs at me again. I can’t help but make light of the seriousness of this so called perfect moment. I don’t have perfect moments. It’s better to muck them up so when it fails there is always that fall back to know it wasn’t as great as you remembered. This gesture causes him to grin further. I huff and say; “Am I really so fun to make fun of?” No longer grinning he seriously places each hand on the sides of my face.
“No, you’re beautiful.” I want to refute the compliment. His statement. It is my MO to deny a compliment. To force it back with a negative. He says the words so sincerely my heart thumps faster and I want to cry. For I do believe his words because I just began to believe them myself. I say nothing else but smile shyly. Lost in the fact that a moment as perfect as this could happen to unlucky in romance me. He holds me closer in his arms and I fold into them. I rest my head below his chin and his stubble rests easily on my forehead. I sigh and smile.
“The stars are so bright tonight,” he says suddenly. I look up to the night sky. He’s right of course but I must point out the obvious:
“That’s is such a THING to say at a time like this.”
He kisses my forehead again. Not saying a word but continues to look up. I break away from his embrace and sit on the grass beside his feet. He follows suit. We sit side by side in this empty field staring up into the sky streched before us. I feel like there is an electricity between us. We bring our fingers together. Lace them together and lie back on the dewey spring grass.
“There is going to be a million bugs in my hair after this and I don’t even care.” I am always ruining the moment. He squeezes my hand tighter has his deep laugh resonates in the night air.
“You’re kind of ridiculous, you do know that right?” I shrug and look at him. My face become wet from the grass. I scrinch my nose again. As if he could not contain himself anymore he brings his face to mine and kisses me softly. He swings is leg over my body. His weight is welcome and I lose my fingers in his feather soft hair. Why is his hair so much softer than mine? I try and not to think of this as I part my lips and his tongue slips in and dances with mine. He isn’t aggressive and the teeth gnashing is absent. We kiss under the stars and get lost in the moment. Who knows if I’ll see him tomorrow? I never know anymore. This much I do know: it’s all about the story.

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