Spin the bottle

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You were sitting across from me,
laughter filling the space between our friends.
It was one of those easy nights—
familiar faces, careless joy,
a game of spin the bottle
turning comfort into chaos.

We'd been friends for years,
but that night showed me
a side of everyone
I didn't know I was unprepared to see.

There was a girl I brought with me.
You kissed her.

Our eyes met.

You kissed her again.

Our eyes met again.

I told myself it meant nothing—
maybe just coincidence,
maybe a trick of the light,
maybe my own delusion
reaching for meaning where it didn't belong.

Then I made a bold move:
I asked you to pull
the person you wanted to kiss
when the lights went out.

You made a bolder one.

Twice.

You pulled me in
and kissed me.

Did you know
I've been waiting ever since—
not for you,
but for an answer?

Four years have passed,
and I still return to that moment,
turning it over in my hands,
asking the same quiet questions.

Did it mean something to you,
or was it only a game
that ended when the lights came back on?

Why did you choose me—
out of all the girls in that room,
out of all the hands you could have pulled?

Was it chance,
or was it intention?

Four years later,
I'm still standing in that space
between what happened
and what was never said,
waiting for an answer
you never gave.

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