kissing k

A Story by Prescilla

how things unfolded

It started out as a mere fantasy. No, it started out as being drunk and some faint attraction. We flitted our eyes back and forth between the room, drinks in hand, laughing occasionally about the choice of music or some dirty joke. The night ended there. The morning after, we confessed our odd attraction. It was mutual, which made it completely not awkward, just open ended. We laughed it off. We didn’t talk about it much more, unless it was the playful answer to our also mutual sexual frustrations. The idea rolled around in my head more than I’m sure it did in yours. We didn’t act on it, but one night the liquid confidence was strong enough to push us over. Our lips met, quickly and sloppily, tongues finding teeth and finally other tongues, hands through hair, being close. It was quick and we laughed it off.

The morning after, we confessed our even more attracted attraction. And once again, we left it open ended. The nights to follow were more of a joke then ever; it ended up us both tipsy, and me telling you to stay away from me when I'm drunk, and you giving me that flirty smile of innocence. We didn’t talk about it for quite some time, but the nights we got drunk, there were kisses shared. One night we were so drunk, I ended up on top of you in a boys’ bed. Another night when we were both sober, I kissed you goodbye. Our friends noticed this attraction, and some friends pushed our boundaries. Some friends questioned our sexuality, and some friends wanted in on it too. During the day, we would talk about our other friends’ asexuality, and how boys were boys, but never did we say much about us. It was an unspoken understanding we had.

After weeks had passed and not a word about it, we had changed our subjects of discussion to strictly boys. There were things we could relate to, and things we wanted alike. Then one night, I got extremely drunk, and made a mistake. Not only did I kiss the boy you liked (and had made it clear), but I spent the night at his house. Waking up in the morning, I was still drunk, and relatively unaware of how you would react. After swallowing my pride, I walked the blocks to your house and told you how sorry I was. You said you needed time, gave me the cold shoulder. I hugged you goodbye without reciprocation, and left crying. That day was the worst day of my life. I had betrayed you. The four days you spent not talking to me made me realize something vaguely familiar. I fell in love with you. Never in my life had I been so depressed, and I knew it was because I had broken the love that could have possibly existed between us. Given that the chances of us ever being together before that night were very very slim, now there was absolutely no chance. I had officially severed our possible relationship. I had severed our friendship.

I realized I loved you, and that I wanted to sleep in your bed, and kiss you goodnight every night, and hold your hand and kiss your neck. I realized that I had more feelings for you than I ever imagined possible. It was suddenly you in my mind constantly. And then the tipping point: I had a dream about you. It was us. You and me. Rolling around on the floor kissing, my hand on your breast, your hand on my thigh, fingers finding, tongues intertwined, we kissed sensual and deep. I felt fire in my thighs. I tried to shake it off after having awoken, but I knew it would stick with me for many weeks to come.

Now when I talk to you or see you, I feel awkward. I feel like I forgot how to be normal around you. I feel like we can’t ever be what we were. Or more.