Disclaimer: The below is a work of fiction, a character profile in-progress.
Is it possible to go insane from thinking about someone whom you haven’t seen in a year? Is it possible to have dormant feelings about someone without even realizing that you do? I feel like a delusional teenager suffering from an infliction of infatuation. As I remember the time we spent together I could kick myself in the head for not being more brave and jumping with both feet into the abyss of a potential romance. I would be a different altogether person by now, as I’m sure would he. And hell I could even have a dog.
So instead of doing something I am lost in a sea of emotional variables, biding my time until I hear from him…torture on email, his cell phone missing from my mind, with 13 days to go until we are physically standing side by side, across from one another.
He is obviously annoyed with me, not so annoyed to not want to clear the air over dinner. But still. I hurt him, touched a nerve with unfortunate comments and outright sarcasm. I am unused to people taking everything I say to heart. Those words, spoken without much thought, for consequences unforeseen, etching out the bare bones of an emotion.
He is in a bad place, not texting me his arrival at a second party; not willing to share his phone # (one that I should already have ). Lying about his health, not forthcoming with any personal information really. I wonder why he has not friend'd the others. It’s an interesting notion…and as much as I want to know that side of things at this moment I don’t want to know at all ….
I just want to kiss him I want to feel all 6’3” of him flush against my body. I want to lean into him our tongues entwined. I want to wrap my fingertips around the back of his neck, thumbs grazing the short hairs of a crew cut. Ideally his response would be mutual but I could live with one taste, knowing that it wasn’t meant for anything else than a conversation over dinner. In my heart, or is it in my groin, I want to fuck him, ride him like bull. I want to feel and know the essence of what he is, with not a care for anyone else in my thoughts, just him.
I want to caress his face and feel the stubble against my cheek. Whisper air into his neighboring ear. I want to straddle him and rub my hands over his chest and back, kneading my fingers into his taut skin…work out the tension of his day as a trader and mine from the sea. I want him to kiss me unexpectedly where my heart is racing. I want his hand to graze my skin, brush up against my breast. I want to feel wet enough, that I might burst save for the Kegel exercises that might calm my hormones down.
I want to read a book with my back nestled against his chest. I want to grab his thigh in the middle of a horror movie while closing my eyes in fright and I want him to laugh, reaching for my hand. I want to rub his cock in a dark movie, licking his fingers, sitting side by side, only able to make it through with the knowledge of what will come when we leave. I want to awaken my sexuality and his in a way that we never knew could be. I want. I want. I want.
I want to fall in love, and I know that when I do I’ll fall harder than I’ve ever done before. And I’ll cherish whatever time I get without expectations or fear of what I might not have one day.
I want us to argue over preferences and learn to tolerate each others nuances. I want each of us to connect, to text one another when we’re away, to remember who has our heart when the other is not near. I want to meet his dogs and I want them to fall in love with me first, to bridge the gap of time and space that is there of my own doing.