(no subject)
Enjoy, my pretty readers.
I'm boxing away 23 years of my life and he's standing too close and I wonder what his lips taste like.
Jon's out of town for the holidays and the move is looming in front of me like this irreversible show of betrayal. I've grown up, grown out of playing pretend in this 2-bedroom apartment of ours, and I don't think there's any going back.
I think I could marry Jonathan. He treats me with an endearing sort of respect, and I happily return the favor. He's charming, business savvy, pleasantly good-looking. And he's good to me. He's good to me, and all I can think about are Dylan's lips.
It happens while I'm packing up the last of my things. I tell him I'm scared of living with another boy, of waking up next to someone who isn't my best friend. He cracks a witty one-liner, oddly comforting in my vulnerability. And then we kiss-- gentle, curious yet hesitant. I know I shouldn't, but... I need this. I need him, and this has to happen now. And it doesn't disappoint. I'm numbed into a sort of delicious stupor, a nirvana of heat and chemistry and perfection.
And then I pack up and go. All that lingers is his taste, the stinging sweetness of his tongue. In this one moment of indulgence, I know what I need to do. I'm a girl in love with a boy and that's all there is. There is no more move, no more future, no more commitment. There is only Dylan and the sugarcane bliss of his lips.
I'm boxing away 23 years of my life and he's standing too close and I wonder what his lips taste like.
Jon's out of town for the holidays and the move is looming in front of me like this irreversible show of betrayal. I've grown up, grown out of playing pretend in this 2-bedroom apartment of ours, and I don't think there's any going back.
I think I could marry Jonathan. He treats me with an endearing sort of respect, and I happily return the favor. He's charming, business savvy, pleasantly good-looking. And he's good to me. He's good to me, and all I can think about are Dylan's lips.
It happens while I'm packing up the last of my things. I tell him I'm scared of living with another boy, of waking up next to someone who isn't my best friend. He cracks a witty one-liner, oddly comforting in my vulnerability. And then we kiss-- gentle, curious yet hesitant. I know I shouldn't, but... I need this. I need him, and this has to happen now. And it doesn't disappoint. I'm numbed into a sort of delicious stupor, a nirvana of heat and chemistry and perfection.
And then I pack up and go. All that lingers is his taste, the stinging sweetness of his tongue. In this one moment of indulgence, I know what I need to do. I'm a girl in love with a boy and that's all there is. There is no more move, no more future, no more commitment. There is only Dylan and the sugarcane bliss of his lips.