We put something on — neither of us could tell you what — and at some point the space between us just disappeared.
His shoulder against mine. My arm against his. The warmth of him seeping into me.
Normal.
Except nothing about how I felt was normal and I was close to running out of room to pretend otherwise.
It happened slowly.
The way things do when both people are pretending they don’t feel what they feel.
The movie — whatever it was — cast everything in low blue light. His face close. His breathing even.
And then he turned toward me slightly and I turned toward him slightly and the distance between us went from inches to almost nothing and I felt the whole world narrow down to exactly this.
His eyes dropped.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Then back up.
He didn’t move.
I didn’t move.
The air between us felt like something charged.
Electric.
Like if either of us breathed wrong it would shatter.
• • •
And then his hand found mine.
Not quick. Not accidental.
Slow and deliberate, the way you do something you’ve thought about.
His fingers slid between mine and stayed there and I stopped pretending to watch whatever was on the screen and just — felt it. The heat of his hand. The way it fit.
Closed my eyes.
I turned my head.
He turned his.
We were close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off his skin, infecting me to the bone. Burning me.
His eyes were dark in the low light.
But still that blue I loved.
Always that blue.
He exhaled.
