Pinky Love

PINKY LOVE (HOW MUCH....?)


“I like your friends. They're a pretty good bunch, you know?”

She was looking out over the balcony to the crowd on the patio below.  They were standing, a few feet apart, up on the shady, second-floor veranda of the villa where the graduation party was taking place.  They had managed to slip away with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, and were enjoying the comparative seclusion of this private vantage point where they could watch, unobserved, the antics of the revelers below. 

The wine bottle was nearly empty, and the first stars had begun to emerge in the twilight sky.  A loud shriek of laughter reached their ears from immediately below them, prompting them to exchange amused looks.

"I'm glad you like them,” he responded, relief in his voice.  "Having practically dragged you out here with me, I was a bit worried you weren't really enjoying yourself." 

His eyes flashed his anxiety, despite his smile.

“Hey, come on, I'm having a great time here.  And I really do like your friends,” she said, smiling reassuringly. She turned back to watching the scene below for a moment, then said, “I like you, too, you know.”

“Yeah?”  He edged a little closer and peered intently at her face, trying to read something there.   The frisson of electricity that habitually hung between them had been muted by the wine, but it was still there, making him hyper-aware of her nearness.  He decided to take a chance.

“So, how much do you like me, exactly?" 

Setting down his wineglass, he casually extended the little finger of his left hand.

"That much, maybe?” 

She looked over at his finger, smiling mischieviously. Reaching out across the balcony towards him, she clasped his pinky with her own.

“Yeah, I like you that much.”

He held her gaze for a moment. Then he hooked his ring finger around her ring finger. “How about that much?”

She tilted her head, considering her response. “Yes, I like you that much, too.”

“This much, too?” He had intertwined all her fingers now with his, and, gently tugging her hand, he pulled her forward, closing the gap between them.

“Mm-hmm.” She kept her gaze focussed on their clasped hands.

“And do you like me this much?” he asked, again, pulling her closer still and slipping his other arm around her waist.  He retained his grip on her hand.

“Possibly,” she replied, looking up to meet his gaze.

“Then how about...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” she interrupted, pulling back. “Isn't this all a bit one-sided?  What about saying how much you like me?  Fair's fair, right?” She raised her eyebrows at him, challengingly.

“Oh well, of course. You're right. I'm sorry," he replied, with a grin. 

"Ok, then... well, let's see.”  He held up their still intertwined hands: “Absolutely, then, I like you this much.”

“And,” wrapping his other arm around her waist, pulling her back in, “I definitely like you this much.”  She smiled at him, bemusedly.

Then, gently loosening her hand, he reached out to softly brush her cheek with his fingertips. 

“I'm pretty sure I like you this much, too.”  He kissed her right ear, tenderly.

“And even this much,” he breathed, kissing her other ear.

She dropped her gaze, and her breath was shallow.

“And it's very, very possible that I like you this much,” he said, as he leaned in and gently placed his lips on hers.  She didn't pull back this time, but, a breathless moment later, she lowered her head away from him, and stood immobile in his arms.

He pulled back to look at her, uncertainly, trying to read her response.

“Well,” she breathed, “That was, um, very informative. Thank you,” beginning to draw away from him.

“Wait a second,” he said, not letting go of her hand.  "Uh, I don't think you quite finished telling me how much you liked me.  You know. Earlier.” he said, hesitantly, his eyes dark and intense.

“Oh, right."  She glanced down, then, raising her chin, she looking at him, squarely and calmly.  "Well, how far did I get?” she asked, innocently.

He pulled her towards him again, and placed her arms about his neck. “I think you were right about here...”  

Now her eyes were shining, and that mischievous glint was back.

“Well, yes, that's right, this much I do like you.” She looked at him a moment longer, then, dropping her gaze, she lightly brushed his cheek with her lips. “And this much, too, I think.”

He didn't move, waiting.

“And then...."  She paused.  "Well, beyond that, I probably shouldn't say anymore.”

She leaned away from him, but held his gaze.

“Why not?” he demanded, a look of concern darkening his brow.

“Well," she smiled, ruefully. "You might not like what I have to say.” 

“Oh,” he said, a shadow flickering across his eyes. He searched her face, trying to read her expression, understand her meaning. After a long pause, he said, “I think I would like to know, though, all the same.”

She looked thoughtful, as if weighing the situation.

“Well, then, perhaps you had better sit down.”

He glanced around, spotting a bench over against the wall.  He walked over to it and sat down, hands on his knees.  Watching her now, she seemed a little unsure. She walked slowly over to him, stopping directly in front of him.  Then she knelt between his knees, and lightly slid her hands up along his arms and shoulders, and down over his chest.  

“I think it's only fair that I be straight with you on this,” she said somberly.  He held his breath, not sure what to think, now.

“So here it is, then...” And, reaching up to cradle his head in her hands, she brought his face down to meet hers, and kissed him slowly, deeply, langorously.

When she finally pulled away, she said, “Well, now you know. That's how much I like you.”

She waggled her pinky at him, her eyes sparkling, and made to stand up.

“Now, wait just a minute, ” he murmured hoarsely, pulling her back, into his lap.  "It's my turn, again, now, remember?  --you interrupted me last time, and I didn't get to finish.  Fair's fair, right?"  he whispered, bending to kiss her again.

Fair enough, indeed, she thought. 

This time, she didn't interrupt him at all.