i am no longer in fear of my target audience
Sometimes you get in the car and it’s just a ride home.
“I’m not really ready to go home yet,” I said.
The air in the car got a little thicker, something in the atmosphere changed. It was the first indication that maybe this wasn’t an ordinary ride home.
You asked me where I wanted to go. I didn’t know, merely that I intended to remain in the car. I haven’t asked you if that night was a matter of convenience or if it was a reality you had never expected. I’m not certain that I want to know.
You parked the car somewhere off Indian Hill. We talked. At some point I said something that led you to slide a finger under my chin, lean in and kiss me. It was gentle, it was timid, and when it was done you pressed your forehead against mine and looked at me, presumably to determine if I was freaked out or not. I wasn’t.
I never had the fear that you would try to take it further. You acted as if we had all the time in the world despite the fact that it was already 2 am. We drove into the mountains in an effort to find privacy, and still I did not worry that you had other things in mind. We talked, we kissed.
It’s been a very, very long since I’ve been kissed that way. Hands in my hair, on my face, at some point you even held mine. I don’t really know that you could fake that. After dating someone for over a year who hardly kissed me (and never with such decisiveness), and then someone who said he “wasn’t really into” kissing, I wasn’t sure what to with myself.
You took me home eventually, walked me to the door and kissed me goodbye. I went into my house in utter shock.
I’ve long been in the practice of not caring if a boy calls, or at the very least lowering my expectations of them to follow through. You did follow through, and you promptly showed up at my doorstep the next night. All of the things you said to me that night will be put to paper, but they don’t belong on the interspace. They are for me.
Someday I will tell you all of this, but today is not that day.
