And that’s how I became friends with John Mayer. We did actually quit smoking together. We did a lot of things together, as watching movies, have dinner parties, go out… But there was never a feeling of love, at least not for me. (And neither for him, as far as I know). But the last weeks everything changed.
I was still smoking when I heard the door open and I expected John to come in. I looked at the door, and it was surely not John who had just walked in. I blinked twice to make sure my mind wasn’t playing a trick on me. Then I jumped up and hugged the young woman who had just gotten in. “Oh my God, Kate! What are you doing here?!” I screamed. “I’m back.” she said smiling. “What’s up with you?” she asked, looking at the ashtray with the still lit cigarette and the bottle of wine on the table.
Kate was my best friend. I’d known her since we were both freshmen. We used to live close to each other, but she had always been the most adventurous of the two of us, and she went away for a year. She travelled Europe and I was about to hear a lot of stories about the trip. But first she wanted to know what was wrong with me.
There was no need to tell her nothing was wrong. She knew I never drank alcohol on my own, and that I only smoked in very, very specific cases. So I told her about my feelings for John after we both sat back on his couch. It took my about a quarter to tell her about my sudden feelings. She thought about what I said for a moment. Then she said: “You should date someone else to get over it.” I smiled while I blushed. “I kind of already did that. I couldn’t keep my thoughts at the date and I had to think about John all the time.” Kate kept silent for a minute. “Then you just have to work on your feelings. You can always try to make it happen.” I smiled again. I really didn’t tell the story right. “He has a girlfriend. And he seems to really like her.” Kate made a face. “I don’t know what to do then.” she said finally. I buried my head in the back of the couch. This problem wasn’t a problem that anyone could fix. Kate chuckled and patted my back. “I’m sorry, Ly.” I felt her getting up from the couch. An instant later she came back with a wineglass. She poured herself some wine and took a sip. I realized I was being rude, only mourning about my own problems. “So,” I started. “how was Europe?” Kate flashed her biggest smile. It was clear she would be talking about this a for a while.
When Kate had left and I was cleaning up the table, my head was still full of her exciting stories about Europe and the people she met. I had just put the empty glasses in the dishwasher when I heard something in the living room. A few seconds later John was standing in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but to smile at him. “Hi.” I said. He smiled back at me. “You waited up.” he said, still smiling. “What?” I asked. I looked at the big clock on the wall. It was two in the morning. I chuckled. “Well, yeah. Not really. Kate is back.” John seemed surprised. “That’s great.” he answered. “Did she have a good time?” he asked. I laughed. “I’m not going to tell you anything about it. I don’t want to spoil her fun.” He laughed. “You’re right. She won’t be happy if she can’t tell it herself… So, how was your date?” he asked, looking at me observant. I tried to not look too sad. “It was ok. Not great, but he’s a nice guy…” John came over to me and pulled me to his chest. He held me tight. I could only enjoy the moment and hugged him too. I rest with my head against his chest and it felt like heaven when I could smell his scent. There was something wrong with it though. I loosened myself from his arms. “So,” I started. “Did you see Emma today?” John nodded. “Yeah, we watched a movie. It was fun.” I nodded and turned to the fridge. I opened it and acted like I was looking for something. Like a bucket to throw up in. “That’s great.” I finally said, still looking into the fridge. “So, Ly,” John said. I finally just closed the fridge and turned around to look at him while he spoke to me. “Is our “date” for tonight still on?” He made quotation marks when he said the word ‘date’. Just lovely. “You tell me.” I said, faking a smile. I wanted a real date with the man I lived with. Was that too much to ask for?
“Great,” he said, walking around me, towards the fridge. He opened it and fished a bottle of white wine out of it. Great. I hadn’t been drinking enough the last days. “I probably shouldn’t drink anymore, I already had half a bottle at Emma’s.” John said. I chuckled. “You’re not the only one who is developing alcoholism.” He laughed. “Can you get the glasses?” I nodded and got them out of a cabinet when John already walked to the living room.
It was clear that we were both more than a little tipsy. Before John and I started drinking together we were already almost drunk. So, when we both got our second glass of wine since John was home, our conversation didn’t involve anything worth talking about. I don’t even remember if we really said anything by that moment. I giggled before talking. “Maybe we should go to bed.” I said, still giggling like a sixteen year old girl that was talking to her crush. To be honest, the difference wasn’t big at all. John moved his head up and down very slowly. We both laughed by now. “Ok, let’s get up.” he finally said, and he started to get up. He almost fell back on the couch, but somehow he managed to stay up. His legs seemed a little unstable, but maybe they weren’t, and was it just my view that was troubled by the alcohol that made me think they were. He turned to me and held out his hand. I grabbed it eagerly, and he helped me to get up. We both stood still for a second. I didn’t know what John was really doing by then, but I was trying to find some balance. John started moving towards his room and dragged me along, since we both seemed to have forgotten that he was still holding my hand. When we passed my door I stood still. My sudden lack of movement seemed to confuse John, and he looked at me. “Why dontcha move?” he asked. I tried to act sober, and said, as seriously as possible: “This is my room. I should sleep here, youno?” He nodded and came closer. “Ok,” he said. “Goodnight, Ly.” He leaned over to me, and I can’t quite recall what I thought he was doing. Perhaps I thought he was going to give me a goodnight hug, maybe I saw it coming. He didn’t hug me, and he didn’t kiss me on my forehead like he had done other evenings. Before I knew it, his hands were on both sides of my face and his soft lips were placed on mine. I don’t know if I wanted him to stop, but I can be certain about the fact that I didn’t make him. My lips moved along with his in some sort of drunken pattern. His fingers moved from my face to my hair and I felt my hands moving to his neck. Then they moved over his shoulders to his chest and I grabbed his shirt for a moment. John moved a bit backwards, and for a brief moment I was able to look into his eyes. It’s the only thing I remember clearly from that night. His big brown eyes were looking into mine, and neither of us seemed to have any idea of what was about to happen. If I had to describe what I saw in his eyes, I would say it was a hint of surprise. As if he had just realized what could happen.
Again, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just my imagination running around drunken and crazy.
He pulled me closer again. So close I was pressed against his chest. I gasped for air and looked up at him. I didn’t have time to remember anything of what I was seeing. Not the moonlight coming from my room lighting up his face, not the way he stared at me with his eyes focused, as if he didn’t drink about two bottles of wine tonight. I only felt his lips pressing against mine again, and I can say certain that I didn’t want this to end. It was all I had wanted for the last few weeks, and I wasn’t going to let it slip away. I wanted to feel his hands everywhere, I wanted to learn everything about his lips, the way his hands moved and the way his eyes looked when they were in love. I wanted to know him inside out. I wanted to feel his kisses as if they were lightning, I wanted to be struck by them, I wanted to feel alive. I didn’t care about any consequences. Of course I didn’t, I was as drunk as I’d ever been. It was a wonder I wasn’t feeling nauseous yet.
While we were kissing John pulled me with him to his room. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights when we entered, still kissing. My hands had found his hair, and I didn’t want to let go of it. It felt as if this was meant to be. We landed on his bed, next to each other and before I even realized what was going on pieces of clothing were flying around the room. Although I remember the clothes flying around, I don’t remember it as “just sex”.
It was way too tender to be just about the deed. His lips had traced my body, and his hands had followed to also trace the places his kisses had been before. When he lay down beside me, he put a lock of hair behind my ear and softly brushed my cheek with his finger. I was struck by his kisses, just like I wished for. I couldn’t breathe calmly and felt like I was having too little air to make my lungs function the right way. It was about then that I later wasn’t able to recall anything anymore. I only remember his lips finding mine again, and I was caught in his spell for the rest of the night.
