Her Name...

Amour - Part 2

I asked her out one evening. Dinner, nothing fancy. She blushed such a deep shade of crimson that even I was embarrassed. I don't think she got to go out much. She warned me that it would be just dinner though. She was still with him. I didn't mind. I was glad for her company, and I was in it for the long run. I picked her up near her apartment. He was out with his friends again, so she could stay out as long as we wanted. She looked stunning in that small black dress; her svelte elegant body teasing me as she got in my car. We made small talk as I drove to the restaurant. I can't remember what we talked about, but I know we clicked. Our conversations were smooth, and flowing, and even the pauses felt natural. We were perfect for each other.

It wasn't love.

It wasn't.

But it felt like it.

I took her home after dinner. I walked her to her apartment door. He wasn't home, he wouldn't be. He'd probably fall asleep in the bed of one of his hussies. His loss. He didn't know what he was missing out on. She felt around her purse for her keys, unlocked her door, and smiled at me. I lost control. She opened her mouth, probably to say goodnight, but my lips cut her off. I bent down quickly and kissed her. This never happened before, but with her...I just lost myself. All these emotions that built up from the day I first saw her came bursting forth from that kiss. It was...magic. We must've stood there for hours. The only thing that mattered were her lips and mine. We were one that night. I felt so connected to her, she was a part of me, and I of her. I don't know how or when we broke that kiss. I don't remember driving home, and waking up the next day. It was all a blur till I was sitting down at that table at the café. She smiled at me. Her cute, embarrassed smile, but there was something different. Her eyes were no longer dead, but I could sense confusion. We talked as she worked. It was a slow day, and she spent most of her shift with me. She felt things with me she hadn't felt for a long time. Peace, contentment, happiness. Was it love? No. She still loved her boyfriend, but the kiss meant something. We went on a few more dates, and I knew things were moving forward. She spent less time discussing him, and more time talking about herself. Her hopes, her aspirations, I would just sit and listen to her talk. I would take her home, and we would kiss on her doorstep each time. Things were different this night. She caught my arm as I turned to leave. Stay. That one word that slipped out of her lips, sent my heart into overdrive.

It wasn't love.

It wasn't.

But we would make it tonight.