38 parts Ongoing Mature"Louis...what happened that night?", I ignore his question. Not sure how to word it's answer, so I present my own.
"Which night?"
"The vodka. I don't- I don't remember anything."
His eyes wonder the car for a few seconds before he answers, "I think we kissed."
He seems unsure. I can already tell he's missing details. But the confirmation of what I already know chases the air out of my lungs, and I'm forced to drag it back with a slow, deep breath.
"A-and?", I ask
"And...other... other stuff"
"Did we-"
"No...no... we... we were just really drunk and... it didn't get that far."
"Do you remember much?"
"Not- not really, I barely remember the walk home. Stumbling up the stairs to my front door"
"How was it? For you?"
"W-what?"
"The kiss- Our kiss. Did you like it?"
"I don't know. Like I said I...I barely remember"
"Do you think you'd like it if we were sober?" I feel the slightest pride at being able to force that question out.
"I... don't know"
"Lets try", I suggest. Calmly. Again, leaving me to believe I must be going into shock from my lack of external panic.
"Kissing?", he asks softly. Almost as if he's sharing a secret. "Why?"
"Because... I wouldn't kiss just anyone. Not the way we did that night. Drunk or sober. And I'm willing to do it again just to show you what you mean to me"
That's an...odd sentiment, I'll admit. And deep down, I know it's my selfish way of getting another kiss from him
But it's enough earn a small chuckle though, despite his on-going breakdown.
"Is that your way of saying you're not actually mad at me?", he asks
"That's my way of asking you to kiss me"
