Monday, March 13, 2017

Found In The History Books

His long hair fell around his face as he leaned over to hear me better. I was curled up in the corner of the love seat, and I could tell he was waiting for me to offer up the space beside me. I could feel his breath hitting my bare shoulder, I didn't want that to end yet. He was ready to listen to my story. He wanted to know all of the ins and outs of it and how I came to be like ... this.

He was creative himself. He was following his dreams and scattering kindness everywhere he went. He was on a plane every other day with his camera in tow. I envied that. I was so jealous that he had the freedom to go whenever he pleased. But what was truly attractive about him was his passion. It was tangible, like mine. And I felt drawn to him because of that similarity. Maybe, one day, he could help me show my story just as much as I've loved to tell it.

He stood tall. He had unique features too, ones that weren't found on the boy down the street, but instead ones found in the history books. His ancestors go back to our roots here. Dark, almond eyes will always weaken me.

Eventually he did tire though. I patted the seat next to me signaling for him to come take it. And he did. It wasn't his cologne that was intoxicating though, it was just him. My entire body was being pulled towards his, and I had to be firm in my movements. I couldn't allow the involuntary feelings to take over.

My laptop was open, and he was reading a chapter that I had unofficially titled "Everything But Sex." That was nerve-racking in and of itself. I heard light chuckles but I didn't get to see any of his expression. His face was too close to mine, and if I turned just the slightest I knew that I wouldn't be able to resist him.

"Grace," his voice startled me.

And then I had no choice. I had to turn my head and face him. In cliché form, I could feel my heart beating a bit faster.

I squeaked out, "Yes?"

"There's a few things I would change or move around but it's solid. It's funny too, which I didn't anticipate," he explained.

He wouldn't break eye contact with me though which is why I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even think straight enough to conjure up a coherent sentence.

I sighed, "Yeah, I mean, I know it's not great."

He touched my hand then. And his hands were big. They weren't rough like I had expected them to be either.

"Is this weird," he asked.

I just shook my head no because I was trying not to pounce on him or simultaneously pass out. Then he leaned his head in a little and raised his eyebrows like he was asking me if it was okay. But instead of meeting him halfway I turned my head back around and scrolled through the manuscript.

"What did you think about this line," I asked.

Meanwhile, in my head, I was cursing myself and my nerves for ruining it all.


Weeks later, after numerous phone calls and texts, I got to see him again. I had to go to an opening downtown for an event the old PR firm I had interned for invited me to. I was in talks for representation there so I figured it'd be best if I showed my face around. I had no idea he'd be there though. After I made my rounds, I found a quiet room to take a breath in.

I had been sitting there for several minutes when he walked in. His hair was parted in the middle but pulled back into a low ponytail. Dark jeans, boots, and a charcoal, long-sleeve tee, he wasn't even close to the metrosexual zone I was so acquainted with, but he was still sharp enough to hold his own in this type of setting.

He locked the door behind him and said, "I heard you were here."

I got up and walked over to be near him. I gave him a hug and then quickly backed off.

"Yeah, just winding down now. I was thinking about heading out," I answered.

He added another log to the fireplace and sat down near it. And I was just standing by the door still, like an anxious idiot.

He started humming a song. I wondered if he chose it on purpose or if it was just happenstance.

"Don't," I said.

He looked at me questioning, "What did I do?"

"I don't want to hear that song," I explained.

"Come sit down," he asked.

I walked over and sat across from him on one of the floor pillows. I took my shoes off and stretched out my legs a bit. And just as I did that he grabbed my ankle and dragged me over to him. It was a pretty slick move, I admit. The pillow slid right across the hardwood with ease.

Then we were face-to-face and that same feeling was coming over me. It was kind of similar to "fight or flight" but more like "pounce or pass out" again. 

"So," he started, breaking the silence, "can you not take hints or are you just not interested in me?"

I sat there stunned. I honestly had no clue what to say. I'm the girl that talks too much, and he was making me feel like I had completely lost my ability to speak the English language.

Finally I asked, "Is that a real question?"

But instead of answering me, he kissed me. He didn't wait for me to meet him halfway or ask permission with his expression, he just did it. I didn't hold back either. Everything about him was warm. His kiss, his touch, it's like he just radiated more heat than the average, healthy human did.

He was safe. We didn't have to fight with our rhythm or who was where at what time. Instead, I allowed him to have full control and enjoyed myself. My jeans were unbuttoned. My jacket was back in the corner that I was sitting in before he came inside. I tugged on his shirt and he took it off in one swift motion. He was exactly how I had pictured him for so many months.

He kept tracing my collarbone and kissing my neck. I whispered for him to not be so careful. He didn't need much time to think about it. We were both fully undressed and ready within seconds. But before anything happened, he gazed. His hand was traveling from my chest down to my stomach. I needed that. I needed to feel like I could be admired.

His hands were alive. It wasn't that he was running them all over, but instead he was fine tuning his movements. Eventually he laid down and flipped me over. My back was at his chest and I could feel him pressed up against me. He kept pulling me closer until he couldn't handle it anymore. I was about to add an entirely new experience to my resume.

© Grace Lynne Fleming. All rights reserved.
Blogger Templates by pipdig