The Couch: A short story

We had just gotten back from our 3rd or 4th date, it depends if you count the first one. We had decided to go back to his apartment and watch a movie, as the night was still early. He gave me a tour of the place, as I had never been. He told me to take a seat on the couch, and I did, but I was nervous. I knew how these things usually went, even if I had never experienced it before. He switched the TV from one input to another so it could play Netflix. Some random comedy was decided on and as he plopped back down onto the couch, I tensed up. I tried to hide it, but when he went to put his arm around my shoulder, I knew he could tell.

I eventually relaxed and was able to just focus on the movie. His laugh made butterflies stir in my stomach and my heart leap. I felt his eyes on me and I met them a few times but quickly looked away. Eventually I couldn't look away and his smile seemed to spread to my face. He started to lean in and of course, that's when I freaked out.

"I'm so-sorry I just haven't really umm done this before," I said, blushing of embarrassment and lowering my head.

"That's okay, it doesn't matter to me. As long as this is what you want," he said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. I smile and nod my head, though it stays lowered.

"I just don't want to mess it up or be bad or -," I ramble, but am interrupted by a pair of lips against mine. It was soft and gentle, though shorter than I would've liked. He lowered his hand from my face and I reached for it gently. I'm sure I had the biggest smile on my face and I could feel my cheeks warming up.

"So how was that?" He asked with a grin and a giggle that made my heart rate skyrocket.

"Good," I replied with a smile and a giggle. I finally met his eyes and his beautiful blue eyes were filled joy and a sort of pride. Like he was proud of himself or me, I wasn't sure which. He leaned in again for another kiss; another kiss that was sweet, gentle, and over before I knew it.

He settled back into the couch, as if saying that was the end of that. I tried to hide my disappointment, but it must've been to no avail.

"I don't want you to feel rushed or pressured," he said softly. "I want you to be comfortable and enjoy our time together," he said as though he could read my mind. I nodded my head and painted my face with a fake smile. I felt like this was my fault and that I was a bad kisser and he wanted a way to get out of doing it again.

We continued to watch the movie but all I could think about was how amazing it felt when his lips were on mine. My mind was replaying the kiss over and over and I was zoned out until he spoke.

"I'm getting chilly, I'm gonna grab a sweatshirt. You want one?"

I instantly nodded my head yes while trying not to appear too eager. I could only imagine how soft and cozy his sweatshirt would be. Not to mention how good it would smell. He came back with two sweatshirts and held one out to me. I put it on and as I inhaled, I could smell his cologne that had lingered from the last time he had worn it. It was cozy, and I felt at peace. He settled back into his spot and put his arm around me once again, but we felt closer this time. It may have been the physical distance or the fact that we had just kissed.

The movie went on but I couldn't think of anything but the kisses and kissing him again. When I decided I couldn't take the torture anymore, I looked at him to find him already looking at me. We held eye contact and the tension in the room was high. It was like we were both holding our breath, seeing what the other would do. He had already said he didn't want to push me too far, so I knew I had to be brave and make a move. I ran my hand over his chest until I reached the front of his hoodie. I pulled on it gently and luckily, he got the message and leaned the rest of the way.

This kiss wasn't like the others. It started slow and gentle, but continually built up in speed and force. I felt myself moving closer in the kiss, trying to be as close to him as humanly possible. My hands roamed his body, feeling his strong muscles underneath.  I felt his arms, strong from lifting boxes, and his shoulders and back, strong and toned from throwing footballs for years. My hands ran through his hair, hair that I had always thought about running my hands through.

His rough hands were so softly caressing my body. They cupped my face, so light I could barely feel them. They traveled to the back of my neck and wove themselves into my hair. They traveled down and rested on the small of my back. It was an abrupt stop in contrast to the movement that had previously been occurring. At some point we couldn't get any closer sitting next to each other. Carefully not to touch my ass, he put his hands under my thighs and pulled me onto his lap to straddle him. This made me laugh, as we were literally making out, but he was scared to touch my ass, so I giggled.

"What? What are you laughing at?" He asked with his face just inches from mine.

"Well we're here like doing this and you're being so careful to avoid my ass," I said while running my hands through his hair.

"I just didn't want to scare you or make you feel uncomfortable or pressured, that's all."

"And that's so sweet," I reassured him, "but you can touch my ass."

"When you say it like that," he said while spreading his hands and gently smacking them on my ass and pulling me closer, "come here."