pbr is wreaking havoc on my insides right now, which is the least important thing.
spent the first part of last night in a dive bar with jon, pints and low lighting and crooning old time music. even though it's illegal to smoke in bars now you can practically still see the haze that used to hang in the air in places like that. between the pep talk and the liquid courage I was ready to call jason back by ten.
we met at tyler's and stayed for a while, drinking beers and talking nonsense. after a while we were the only two left and we walked to his car alone, and he opened the passenger side door for me. that was the first point at which I realized I would be going home with him. at his house my head was spinning with exhaustion and alcohol and some indefinable thing that probably had mostly to do with how close I was to him. we smoked cigarettes outside and talked about our families: his ten year old brother who worships him, my sister who is the reason I moved back.
in his bed we laid on our stomachs, propped on our elbows, and watched cartoons. an inch or less separated my left pinky knuckle from his right elbow. in what seemed to me an overt gesture, I shifted my weight until they were in contact - just barely - and spent the next 26 minutes inhabiting a world that consisted solely of the few square centimeters of our bodies that were touching.
when I sleepily rolled over, abandoning even the pretense of watching whatever was on tv, he waited a few seconds and rolled after me. one arm came around my waist like a question and when I melted into the embrace the answer was obvious.
we slept that way all night, his body fitted around mine, and I awoke once as the sun was rising to find him wide eyed and looking at me with something like awe, one hand tracing idle shapes on my hip.
we didn't even kiss, but somehow that doesn't seem the slightest bit important.
spent the first part of last night in a dive bar with jon, pints and low lighting and crooning old time music. even though it's illegal to smoke in bars now you can practically still see the haze that used to hang in the air in places like that. between the pep talk and the liquid courage I was ready to call jason back by ten.
we met at tyler's and stayed for a while, drinking beers and talking nonsense. after a while we were the only two left and we walked to his car alone, and he opened the passenger side door for me. that was the first point at which I realized I would be going home with him. at his house my head was spinning with exhaustion and alcohol and some indefinable thing that probably had mostly to do with how close I was to him. we smoked cigarettes outside and talked about our families: his ten year old brother who worships him, my sister who is the reason I moved back.
in his bed we laid on our stomachs, propped on our elbows, and watched cartoons. an inch or less separated my left pinky knuckle from his right elbow. in what seemed to me an overt gesture, I shifted my weight until they were in contact - just barely - and spent the next 26 minutes inhabiting a world that consisted solely of the few square centimeters of our bodies that were touching.
when I sleepily rolled over, abandoning even the pretense of watching whatever was on tv, he waited a few seconds and rolled after me. one arm came around my waist like a question and when I melted into the embrace the answer was obvious.
we slept that way all night, his body fitted around mine, and I awoke once as the sun was rising to find him wide eyed and looking at me with something like awe, one hand tracing idle shapes on my hip.
we didn't even kiss, but somehow that doesn't seem the slightest bit important.
