 | But there were consequences, of whose making is blurred. The next “step” is our walks to the parking lot to our cars. We’re rarely ever alone together and somehow, here we were, alone among strangers. It started as schoolyard antics, the one where the boy makes fun of the girl, shoves her and teases her. I’m resilient, I bounce back and push him right back. That’s when the physical contact entered a different realm. We literally had scuffles, where we push and pull, kick and scratch, punch and pinch. And it always ended up with me enveloped in his arms, my body pressed into his, his breathing resonating in my ear.
“Do you want me to let go?” he asked and I do not answer. I try to fight off his embrace but he hangs on, he has patience and persistence. We pretend nothing happened in front of our friends and speak nothing of it to ourselves. What can we call it? Is there a name?
Nighttime is dangerous. It seems inhibitions set with the sun and whatever we do gets cleansed by the dawning of a new day. We went to Jamba Juice after class one day and I drove him back to campus to his car. As is the norm now, he pulls me into his arms, no more battles.
“I like holding you,” is his only defense. He calls me a tease and I pretend I do not know why. We have been skirting around for a couple of months now and I know there were moments when we could have taken the next step, but I hold back.
“How badly do you want to kiss me?” I ask him. He doesn’t answer with what I want to hear. He sounded offended that I would think he wasn’t able to control himself, that he was a barbarian of some sort. I continue talking, babbling really. He grabs my face and effectively shuts me up. Oh, the intensity that left us both breathless. I try to pull away, to regain control but he pulls me back, landing his lips on my neck, face and back to my lips. His hand cradles my cheek.
“I can feel your heartbeat,” he whispers against me. I lower my eyes because I can’t hide what he already knows. I fight for composure; I will not allow him to win. For that is what I see, a man thinking he knows me and therefore has power. He continues to plunge for my neck and I lean away. That is the struggle we will have for the next several months. Stolen kisses hidden from the world. Neither of us putting a name to what we were doing and acknowledging where we were heading.
Peter’s wedding. A lovely Spring affair. I was sandwiched between Bob and Mike, who Bob has been teasing me about to everyone, suggesting Bob liked me. Was it a guise for what we were doing? Did he feel threatened? I did not try to catch the bouquet and he called me a commitment-phobe. He refused to catch the garter and I called him a hypocrite. We didn’t stay long. I was wondering if he would choose to walk me to the door, knowing my roommate was out of town. He did. |  |
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