That Kiss

Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, I lay awake with thoughts of her running through my head. I start to think about that kiss. I think about her lips warm against mine, and I think about what made her kiss me. What made yesterday any different than any other day? Was it the excitement of the moment? Or was it something else? Had she been thinking about me the way I have been thinking about her?

I wish I could have seen myself from her perspective in that moment to see what she saw, to feel what she felt, to think what she was thinking when she looked at me. I wonder if she felt the same flutters that I did. Did she have to fight back a smile when I said her name the way that I do when she says mine?

I wonder if she is lying awake in bed because she is thinking of me the way I am thinking about her.

I want to know if her heart races a little faster when she listens to certain songs that seem to be about that moment, that kiss.

I wish I knew if that kiss awakened anything inside of her the way it did for me because that kiss made me want her more than ever before.

I want to feel her hands run along the length of my body, tracing my every curve, as we stumble the room in the dark. I want to feel her legs wrapped tightly around my waist, my hands gripping at her bare thighs, holding her against my body. I want to kiss her long and hard. I want to kiss every inch of her body; I want to taste every inch of her body. I want to see that hungry want in her beautiful, blue eyes.

I want to see if I have a chance, if I will ever mean anything more to her than just a friend.

With all of these crazy, little thoughts, with all of these crazy, little fantasies of me and her, running through my mind, it is hard to want to sleep when all I want is her.

A quiet tapping sounds at the window above my bed, and I slowly push the covers away, crawling closer. Hesitantly turning the lock, I push open the window and stick my head out into the cool air of the night, searching through the darkness.

"Hi," She whispers softly as she stands outside my window with her hands tucked into the pockets of her shorts, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

With hope and expectation ringing in my voice, I ask, "What are you doing here?"

She slowly pushes up on to the tips of her toes and kisses me. The kiss is hesitant and unsure, but as her hands move to my face, pulling me closer, the kiss becomes more eager and hungry. Making sure that our lips never part, I gently take hold of her arms, helping her climb inside, her body landing on top of mine as I fall back on to the bed.

Her fingers become tangled in my thick curls as she grabs hold of the back of my neck, pulling me up with her. I take hold of her thighs, pulling her into my lap, wrapping her legs around my torso. My hands slowly move from her thighs, to her waist, and to her stomach, slipping beneath her t-shirt. My hands continue to inch their way up her body and up her arms, pulling off her shirt, tossing it on to the floor.

My lips move from her lips to her neck to her shoulder and to her chest, discovering places on her body they have never been before. As my lips move further and further down her body, I can feel her become more and more rigid with panic with every kiss. Slowing down the pace, my lips find hers once again, and I can feel the tension in her body slowly disappear.

I can feel her hands begin to explore my body as they slowly creep beneath my shirt, squeezing and tugging at the fat on my stomach. Her hands inch their way further and further up my body to find that I am wearing no bra beneath my t-shirt. She looks to me with surprise in her eyes and her hands quickly fall away as if she was doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. She crawls from my lap into the floor, searching for her shirt. She quickly tugs it back on and, without looking at me, says, "I can't do this."

"Bayleigh," I reach for her hand.

She pulls away from me, looking to me with disgust where there used to be lust in her eyes. "I can't do this."

"Bay, what's wrong? Is it something I did?" I look down at my stomach, down where her hands once seductively squeezed at my fat. "Is it me?" I whisper, tears sounding in my voice. "I know that I am not skinny, and I know that my boobs are small. Trust me, when I look in the mirror, I look at myself with the same disgusted look that you are looking at me with right now. I am sorry that I am not perfect."

I turn away from her as the tears begin to fall, not wanting her to see me cry, not wanting her see how much I truly hate myself.

I can feel the bed dip beneath her weight as she slowly crawls closer to me. She wraps her arms around my trembling body from behind, resting my head against her shoulder. Kissing my eyelids and my cheeks and my lips, she begins to kiss away my tears. Her lips move to my ear, and she whispers, "Liberty, you are perfect to me."