Want Your Bad Romance

That was all that happened that night. Besides a good night kiss and more conversation, all we shared was dinner and a food fight in my kitchen. It was probably one of the best nights of my life.

I had to repeat the story to Kenni about four times.

"And how did the cherries get down your shirt?"

I must say, she knows how to make me laugh.

Our next few dates were similar. We went for a walk on the beach in the moonlight. We went for a bike ride around LA after dark. We discussed everything from books, movies, and music, to our childhood dreams and nightmares, to religion and philosophy. Just being next to him was a heady tonic.

~

We were returning from a wonderful walk around my neighborhood.

Through some nonverbal communication, we'd decided tonight was the night. I didn't feel entirely at ease with it, though. So far, we hadn't exactly done anything — anything warranting a sure affair, anyway.

My hand was shaky as I led the key to the lock. I could feel him close behind me. I felt as though he were anxious to get inside, but I could have been imagining things. I turned the key and opened my front door, and stepped across the threshold. He followed me inside.

"This is wrong, Johnny," I said quietly, shaking my head. Suddenly, I felt his hands at my waist, turning me around gently. His left hand was at the small of my back, holding me to him. He lifted his right hand to stroke my cheek; our faces were mere inches apart.

"Does it feel wrong?" he asked me.

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against his instead of answering. No, I thought. It doesn't feel wrong at all.

I could feel his breath brush across my mouth before he kissed me. It feels right. More than right, even.

His tongue ran across my lip. A shiver raced down my spine, stopping where his hand rested on my back. My hands roamed his toned body. He moved his hand from my cheek and into my hair, his fingernails grazing my scalp. His scent, his taste, his essence was nearly overbearing, drowning me as we kissed.

Knowing exactly what I was doing as I did it, I unbuttoned the last button of his shirt.

He pulled away from me and looked into my eyes. I could read the question all over his face. By way of an answer, I undid the next button. He gave me a small smile, then brought his lips back to mine as we slowly made our way to the bedroom.

~

The next morning, I sat in front of my computer, my fingers flying over the keys, trying to keep up with the too-fast thoughts of my brain. Images were fluttering around inside my head, banging against my skull, laughing as they tried to escape.

That morning, I had woken up next to a man. Not a god, not a movie star, but a man. A normal, mortal, human man. A man who cared for me. Who shared a sort of connection with me. It was inexplicable, but I was sure something was there. I could taste it in his kiss, feel it in his touch.

I had lain there, watching his gentle breathing. I would have loved to stay there all morning, even if he didn't wake up, but the joyous screams of the words and pictures in my head grew louder and louder, and I was forced to get out of bed, and my fingers forced to find a keyboard.

The keys clicked away and the words filled the word document.

I felt hands gently squeeze my shoulders and soft lips touch my neck. His rough morning stubble brushed against my skin, and I smiled. I took one hand from the keyboard and stroked his hair, as I finished the sentence with one hand. Then I turned to him.

The haze of sleep still lingered in his face, but his deep eyes were full of happiness, care, and compassion. He was smiling, and I'm sure my expression matched. I put my arms around his neck and he kissed me.

"Work?" he asked when he pulled away.

"Maybe," I answered, not sure where these new words were going, or whether they were going into a book at all.

He smiled and rubbed my arm tenderly. He kissed the top of my head after I turned back to the screen, then I heard his footsteps lead him toward the living room.

My fingers were soon flying again.