Clarity

We were laying on her black comforter in her bed. I couldn’t help but be uncomfortably aware that she slept there. Every night (hopefully alone so I could change that).

The room smelled like her: fresh, slightly flowery, mostly clean and pure.

A movie I never saw played on the T.V. but I wasn’t watching. How could I watch a movie when Astrid was lying next to me?

Her hand was painfully close to my thigh; I could feel the heat from her fingers but not the weight of her palm. Her head was resting on my shoulder; her breath grazing my ear, driving me crazy. Her feet were brushing mine. She was so close… but not close enough.

“This movie is perfect. You can’t help but smile because of it,” she said.

I nodded. I was sure it was perfect and smile inducing, but I couldn’t focus. I felt Astrid’s eyes studying me so I looked at her.

There was a pause. The world stopped for a second. Nothing moved, no one breathed. The world didn’t turn. The oceans didn’t wave. No one said a word.

She leaned in, and she kissed me. It was soft and simple. A friendly peck. But it was a kiss.

My arms needed to wrap around her. My legs had to be tangled in hers. My lips required hers back on mine. She was suddenly my life support.

Yet, I didn’t crane my neck for more. I didn’t try to drape myself with her. I only looked at Astrid, neither of us moving.

“You’re allowed to kiss me again,” she said. It amazed me that she could find words in a moment like that.

Somehow, we ended up kissing. Our lips were pasted together. Our legs were intertwined. Our arms were enclosed with each other. We were a knot, tied together. Nothing was ever clearer than in those long kisses.