What exactly am I supposed to be thinking?
It's been two years, and he is here. He is here in my laundry room. In my home.
He's gone back to wearing his glasses. I don't really mind. I sort of do wish to take them off, though. You can see much clearer the beauty of his blue eyes that way. I have my own glasses on today. I looked around to the empty downstairs. I turn back to this returned prodigy of mine.
I don't know what it is that starts it. Maybe it's the fact we're alone. Maybe this static has built up over time. Maybe we're hopeless romantics, and just hopeful in each other. Maybe I just look sexy in casual clothes. Maybe I have had a thing for his smile since the first moment it was placed in my direction. Whatever it was, it created a reaction. I felt the desire in the air as I moved in closer to where he stood. I was so eager, and I was so joyous with each inch I advanced with.
OH...
His lips felt just the same. So perfect. Unimaginable, unfathomably perfect.
It was messy, and raw, and real, the manner in which we kissed. It started eager and soft, and I felt his own will grow stronger, or rather, his resistance grew weaker. As I moved my arms around his neck to be in a better position to pull tighter, I felt the strength of his hands on my lowest back. He had never kissed me like this. I found myself pinning him to the side of the washer. My body sent messages, the ferver with which he kissed me sent back more. I wanted him to know that I wanted him, in such a strong way. I whispered it to him, "I want you...". He absolutely blew me away, and whispered back, but in my ear. With a tone I'd never heard from him out of all those years...He whispered sincerely, " I Want You Back "