The next day, he came up to me saying he was sorry. That it wont happen again. But that's the thing: I did want it to happen again. It was all my fault. I pushed him away. But he asked yet again if I wanted to hang out. I said yes and we met up at the local café, Grace's Sweets. We both ordered coffee and talked, just like yesterday. As we left, he insisted on paying. As we got into the car, he said, "Do you want to do something tomorrow?"
I leaned over and kissed him.
I kissed him because even though I thought I wasn't ready, I actually was. Because he cared enough to take things slow. Because it brightened my day when I saw him. Because I like him. We broke away, lips swollen. We drove to my house, and he let me out. He walked me to my front door, kissed me again, and said wear something nice tomorrow. We said goodbye, and he left. I flopped on my bed, and dreamed about him.
