You were across the table.
You listened as I told stories about my life that very few people knew about. Silent, sitting still, staring at me as I poured out my frustrations and unraveled the complicated chapters of my life, laying them open on the table so that you could have a glimpse of my tumultuous world and decide whether you’ll leave, or stay right where you are… silent, sitting still, and staring while billows of smoke from our cigarettes cloud the air between us and surround us with thin wisps that dissolve just as fast as our resolve to keep this meeting purely platonic.
And then you were beside me.
I listened as you told bits and pieces about your life, creating in my head a seemingly vague idea of who you are. Staccato, the manner in which you spoke about your life. Hesitant, like you weren’t sure you wanted to share those things with me. Your voice trailed off, words between us became scarce. It felt as if we entered uncharted territory, a place neither of us should be in, yet we let ourselves fall victim to the night’s spell and the liquor’s lure. As I leaned my head against your shoulder, our hands slowly intertwined, an unsure gesture, a step forward to the unknown, a departure from the platonic.
We locked lips.
An explosion of lust, passion, hunger, and desire in every imaginable spectrum. Friendship set ablaze, resolve to turn away dissolved into a haze. Sweet sighs, soft murmurs, scorching stares, yearning touch. It was everything all at once.
Swirls of smoke obscuring our senses, clouding our judgment, suspended in the air between us as our minds engage in a losing battle against our desires. We were still. The chandelier’s light cast a golden glimmer on the half-empty glasses of bourbon and vodka, making the red liquor emanate a faint glow that mirrors our muted passion. Nothing left to say.
We parted ways.
A smile, a hug, a promise to see each other again soon. Like good friends should.
As the night separated us, I was reminded of reality and the gravity of this stupidity. My reason and emotions were at war. It’s a battle I never wanted, yet a struggle I knew I must face.
Reason tells me to stop. But my heart says otherwise.
Published on Thought Catalog