Holding Hands
The first time I ever spoke to him in person. The first time I was able to feel his presence next to mine. The first time I saw his smile in person. He was a naturally flirtatious person. I liked that about him. He was very touchy but not in an invasive way, at least not at first. He kept to himself for the first minute of the bus ride. I was so nervous. It was the kind of nervous that I craved. I loved and hated the anxious, lightheaded feeling I had when I was next to him. I could barely get the words out when I was next to him. He knew this. He teased me about it. He started getting touchy like playing with my hair or messing with the acrylic nails I had on. He actually broke one of them on accident. I was very angry about that but I couldn't be angry at his clumsiness. It was one of the things I loved about him. I was enjoying the contact I was having with him. I can still see his face close to mine. Me looking into his eyes. Him laughing and asking why I kept looking at him. I remember touching his face. I can't remember why I did it but I remember doing it. It sounds weird but I still remember the feeling of his face. I think i touched his hair too. He took a shower that morning. I can't remember what we were doing or talking about, but I remember him grabbing my hand and holding it. At first I didn't hold his hand back. I'm really not sure why. I eventually did and it was nice. It was quiet for a while but not awkward silence. Comfortable silence. It really felt like were the only two people on that whole bus.
