Friends Don’t Touch Like This

Friends Don’t Touch Like This

The sun is slipping beyond the city skyline. You’re sat close to me but we don’t touch. That was part of the deal. It’s warm out, so warm everything feels close on my skin. You pour champagne into plastic cups and we ‘cheers’ against the backdrop of trees tops and tower blocks.

Our conversation dances between our childhoods and our dreams. You ask me how I got the scar below my bottom lip and it reminds me of my ex, but I don’t tell you that. You tell me I look beautiful without makeup and I think of mornings waking up beside you, wondering if you still crave me completely naked.

I watch your eyes as they fix on mine, travel my face and back again. I wonder what you’re thinking. I think I’d like to kiss you, I know I shouldn’t. I wonder if you want it too and all of the space between us feels loaded.  I wonder if you hang out with all of your friends like this, I wonder if I’ll go back to my bed tonight or I’ll find myself wrapped up in your arms again. I don’t let myself believe the latter but I feel it everywhere.

It’s funny, isn’t it? Finding your way to friendship after so long chasing something more. It’s a strange thing to unlearn the inside of someone’s mouth, to un-know how they taste, to block out the way they were so able to make your entire body react by one look. It’s a difficult task to understand the new rules, to know where the line is. To stop yourself from turning up at their door for one more night resting your head against their chest as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

And so we spend another night beneath the city lights, we laugh and we talk and we keep forgetting not to touch. And the wine clouds our thoughts and the beer makes you forget and I’m drunk on the way you hold my gaze when I’m telling you something painful. And it all just seems so silly now, doesn’t it? All of the chaos, the mess, the confusion. The questions which disappear in the space between us. The times we told ourselves this was the end, knowing maybe the end won’t arrive anytime soon and I hope it won’t. Not tonight.

And we’re here now. In your apartment. On your sofa. So close I can smell your washing detergent and the sun on your skin. And I feel your fingertips along my jaw and I don’t even think about telling you this is a bad idea. And your hands are under me, lifting me from the sofa, you’re carrying me to your bed and I think, friends don’t kiss like this. Don’t touch like this. Don’t let my name rumble out of them like a command, like this. They don’t sigh, don’t gasp, don’t breathe heavy against my ear like this. Friends don’t wake up tangled in each other the next morning, still craving each other like this.

About the author

Writer, Daydreamer, Coffee Addict

Follow Rose on Instagram or read more articles from Rose on Thought Catalog. Learn more about Thought Catalog and our writers on our about page.