I’m restless. I turn over, look at the clock. Sunday night, 2:07am. I turn back around, staring into the darkness, thinking. This time last week. We were in a leather booth in a dark bar downtown, the lights dimmed on the chandelier above. Music played in the background, but in my drunken mind, I could only hear your voice. Nothing else in the world mattered, except for you sitting next to me.
Two beers on the table; we see who can drink theirs faster, but of course it’s you. The anticipating look in your eyes dare me to take another sip. At first we’re not touching, but the vibes in this place are electric, and I can feel your presence drawing me closer as our eyes meet. Our legs finally touch; you ask me to take off my jacket. I do.
The alcohol hits us at the same time, and suddenly our hands are intertwined, and your face is next to mine, our lips almost touching. It’s everything we craved, but were too afraid to do sober. You knew you couldn’t stop thinking about it after that night at the party, us walking together afterward hand in hand with burgers in the other. All too innocent, yet all too unattainable.
Like in my late night fantasies, you pin me to the booth – just how I like it – whisper something in my ear I can’t remember, but all I know is that it lights me on fire. You let me go from your grasp, and gently pull me back into your arms, your eyes searching my body for answers, your fingers lingering on my skin. You pull me closer and I feel your lips on my neck, and I find myself doing the same as I hear you let out a sigh of contentment. You trace my lips with your fingers, igniting a feeling so strong in me.
For those late-night moments at 2:07 in the morning, I wanted your touch, your presence, your desire, and you couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t either. Your magnetic pull drew me in. I knew you were forbidden, but something about the way you move made me want you more.
Maybe it’s the concept of not being able to fully have it. Maybe it was knowing that this was here and now, that these moments may never come again. Fleeting, just like the possibility of us.
You were mine for the night, and I was yours. Your irresistible touch created sparks that could light a fire. We were untouchable, even if just for a little while.