Heat Waves

preface

   I never understood why he liked kissing me so much. At first it was the novelty, I got it, but afterwards it was like one kiss from me and I had just flipped the on switch into place. I asked him that night why he liked kissing me so much.

He had pretty lips, a soft petal pink that looked as sweet as they felt, and they were plush like two warm pillows trying to keep you warm. I was trapped between a dark brick wall and his strong arms, the warmth of his body combatting the light chilly air. We had paused our session for a second to breathe and listen to the night sounds of this small city. His lips were centimeters from mine; his eyes were closed — mine were open. I assessed his face for a second as I waited for his response.

Finally, his breathing had slowed down and his eyes met mine. "You don't feel that?"

I felt the breeze kiss my skin, leaving goosebumps with every touch; I felt the grooves of the brick behind me press into my back and tug on my hair; I felt warmth from his body radiate into mine, but other than that, I felt nothing. I knew what he meant, though, and I also knew that telling the truth would likely be inappropriate in our situation.

Closing my eyes, a soft breath left my lips and I indulged in the colors behind my eyelids that danced around until they became a face, a memory — and suddenly, the goosebumps on my skin weren't due to the wind. I arched my back to push my body flush against him and pulled his face closer with both hands, our lips instantly making contact in a slow but passionate kiss.

"Yea," I lied, my voice gentle, "I feel that."

rewritten too many times.