seven days

It took us seven days to give up the fight between our bodies and our minds. Seven days passed without ease, and by way of our hearts’ beats, we finally touched. More than a hug or a slight nudge, if it weren’t for that door, we might’ve escaped the confrontation of our love.

It pressed firmly against my back, leaving me no room to escape the desire burning between my legs. His breath grew weak upon our closeness, trailing goosebumps down my chest as it struggled to keep rhythm. My eyes slowly darted across his face for a sign to stop, because we both knew this was never meant to happen. We were meant to keep ourselves apart, far enough to avoid this inevitable trigger of sensations. We were meant to keep ourselves at a distance, to resist the irresistible. It had been seven days of hopeless struggle, and for every moment we got too close, my strength melted away by the thought of his embrace. My body recognized a need to be satiated, a need that was growing hungrier by the day.

I couldn’t read his thoughts when I asked to room with him for the summer. All I knew was that, an hour later, I was set to move in by the weekend. He hadn’t given up too much about how he was feeling, and neither did I. The reason behind it was simple: We went to college in the same city and he already had an apartment set up with his two friends. They had a spare room and coincidentally, I was in need of a room. On my part, I appeared disorganised and irresponsible, but he appeared to be my saviour. It was pure curiosity that led me closer to the truth that was trapped between the door frame and me. Seven days had never felt longer to my body which refused to stay patient. I was verging on an insatiable outburst, but at this moment, his touch was quickly making up for my wait.

His hands travelled slowly up my thighs to the small of my back. I sensed a hesitation in his motion, one that my body could sympathise with. Our mothers’ words echoed through my mind: Stay friends, but never get too close. This had been our relationship for the first eighteen years of my life. I could never hurt my mother, this was her best friend's son. In truth, we hardly spoke, unless it were forced or necessary. I knew how I felt about him from an early age, but I never knew that he could feel the same way.

Had he not asserted his “older brother” position in my life, I might’ve avoided the confrontation of my desires. His protective nature and desire to help others only affected me because of my evident need for help and protection. I do not deny that I have been alone for the majority of my life, but it’s given me the tools to take care of myself, to be independent. The moment I asked to move in, that began to wither against my will. It took only three days for us to have our first fight about it, another two days to understand each other. He asked me one simple thing: to tell him where I was going before I left the apartment. I had never done that with any of my previous roommates, and they gladly respected the privacy I needed to stay sane. In the end, I surrendered to his overprotective nature. I quickly realised that no one had ever cared enough about me to take care of me the way he did. He wasn’t forceful or overbearing, he observed a balance that was comforting and gentle. What troubled me was that our fight had further propagated the sensation between my legs, a sensation I had gotten good at hiding after puberty. The unreciprocated desire for his touch made me feel weak and alone, until the fifth day.

I suggested that we go to the movies, and by suggested, I mean I pleaded. When I recognized a slight annoyance in his response, I feared he would say no. By instinct, I reassured him that I was more than okay with going alone. After all, I had done it many times before. Before I knew it, he was accusing me of not wanting him to come. Had he really wanted to come with me alone? We had never done it before, in fact, I don’t believe he’s ever done it with another female friend before.

So we went out, for the first time together alone. I underestimated how enjoyable my time would be with him. Elbow to elbow, we watched our favourite characters flash before our eyes. His eyes teared with mine as our giggles bounced light-heartedly between the seats. On our way back home, we cuddled up at the back of the train and ate leftover popcorn, letting our conversations deepen naturally. “You’re one of the only people I trust in this world”, he looked down at me with a delicate smile. I had never expected those words to come out of his mouth. “It’s a gut instinct I had when you asked to move in”, he continued, looking out at the buildings as they swept past us. I relaxed into his shoulders and sighed, “I trust you, too. I don’t think I’ve trusted anyone more than you”. A small smile played on my lips as I hesitantly uttered the words. I hadn’t been able to trust anyone for a long time, and I vowed that I would always proceed with caution. Here I was, falling head-first into the unknown and enjoying every second of it.

After that night, I was reminded of the power of trust. It connected humans in a way that made us inseparable. Suddenly, you’re not only considering yourself. Suddenly, your mind wanders to the idea of another without a question. Suddenly, your world grows to include another beautiful soul. How could I ruin this? I ask myself as I feel my body grow more attached to his touch. We aren’t allowed to do this. I repeat in my mind as his breath grows weak against mine. I need more. I release myself from my hold and fall desperately into his. I let my body say the words I’ve kept buried for eighteen years. Losing the strength to put up this fight between our hearts and our minds, we lose sight of our cage and escape, after seven days.