It was a beautiful, sunny day today, so I decided to run errands in the city. As I was on a mission to find a good up of coffee, I noticed my past coming back to haunt me as he sauntered towards me.
When I met his gaze, I realized he was already staring at me in spite of holding hands with a blonde girl. My palms suddenly got sweaty, my pace slowed, and my body trembled as the gap closed between us. He muttered a quick hello as we passed each other. I knew my words would betray me, so I only smiled in return.
I could feel red rushing into my cheeks as I attempted a cleansing breath. Wow, he looked good. How many years had it been? Was that really him? My internal questions overwhelmed me.
Just as I looked behind me to make sure I wasn’t seeing an apparition, I noticed he had turned back to look at me too. And he smiled – that lopsided, raised lip grin that I could never forget.
Every girl has that one guy in her past that makes her wonder “what if…”
He was mine.
Grade four, I was playing outside during recess with my friends when I first noticed him. He was standing by himself, watching everyone else having fun, curious, yet comfortably standing on the sidelines. He was the quiet kid with dark brown hair and mysterious eyes that soaked in the world around him. He looked aloof, not at all desperate to get into the middle of things, content to be a spectator.
We grew up together, yet we never really got to know each other among all our other friends. We had always been cordial, ending up at the same places with the same friends throughout our childhoods, but we only knew each other on a superficial level. And that was fine when we were children.
When we reached high school, he was still the same kid as he was in elementary school; quiet, perpetually on the sidelines, satisfied to stand in the fringes, preferring to watch as things happened instead of being part of it. He fell into the background, but he always seemed to be around.
After a really late party one night, I had consumed too much alcohol and he offered me a ride home in his truck, which I accepted. Words were scarce as we drove through the quiet streets. That was until he cleared the seat beside him, in the middle of the bench seat in his truck, and he said, “you can sit here, if you’d like.”
That was the signal, during our teenaged years, which said, “I want things to go further.”
I remember looking at him in a different light at that moment. I questioned his motives, I wondered if he truly wanted something more than friendship or if he was doing it because it was expected of him. We had known each other throughout almost our entire childhoods, did he finally want more than the platonic relationship we’d always had between us?
I politely smiled over at him and then quietly slid across the truck and sat within two inches of him, my leg almost touching his. I didn’t want our legs to touch in fear that he’d feel me shaking with nerves.
“Do you have to go home right away?” he asked in a gentle, easy tone. When I shook my head, he asked, “would you like to just drive around for a while?”
“Have you had a lot to drink tonight?”
“No. I didn’t drink at all.”
“Sure, let’s take a drive,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could, hoping my nervousness would not deceive me.
And so we drove, just wanting to spend time together alone with the possibility of getting to know each other on a deeper level for the first time.
The streets were quiet, but the 24-hour coffee shops were abuzz with activity from the bar crowds and the taxi drivers. Yet we remained in our own world together. There was something mystical about getting to know someone on an unspoken level. It was a bond that had developed over years, when we were kids, and grew into the curiosity of adolescence.
When we hit an unforeseen bump in the road, my weight shifted and our legs touched. Not wanting to invade his personal space, I quickly scooted back over to my place in the middle of the seat only to feel his hand resting on my thigh and pulling me back towards him once again.
It set my body on fire. As teenaged curiosity set in, I wondered what it would be like to be more than friends with him. Because I’ve always been proactive, working towards things that I’ve wanted, I took a deep breath, summoning courage, and I gently laid my hand on top of his hand, which was on my thigh. It seemed to go unnoticed until he suggested we go to his place for a while to watch a movie.
We settled into the sofa downstairs as his mom slept peacefully upstairs. He was on one side, I was on the other, neither of us touching, yet both of us wanting to.
As the movie started, he motioned for me to put my legs across him as he scooted closer to me on the couch, to which I obliged. I laid on my side, my head resting against one side of the sofa, my legs draped over him comfortably as his hands made their way up and down the length of my shins, massaging me into relaxation. My heart beat a little faster as my focus was taken off the movie and directed towards the boy who was making it rather clear that he was ready to take our relationship a step further.
Every time I looked over at him, his gaze was on me instead of the movie and I’d shyly smile. It became clear to both of us who was the one with the power that night and it certainly wasn’t me.
Everything about him made me weak. The way he styled his hair, his sexy grin, his chiseled jawline, the way he wore his signature leather jacket, his taut muscles, and the air of confidence that he gave off made me want to fall into his arms and forget everything else in the world.
After what seemed like an eternity, he shook off his jacket, slid his body closer to mine, and stretched out behind me on the sofa, spooning me. I could feel his chest against my back, his breathing sporadic, just like mine. I could feel his arms around my shoulders, holding me tightly to his chest. I remember wondering when he had become so strong and when he had developed muscles, because he had always been a spindly kid as we grew up.
My newfound curiosity was about to take me to new and interesting places. I felt pressure in my chest from my heart beating in anticipation as I turned over to face him, his lips hovering over mine. My hands explored him and I heard him moan in pleasure as I found his swollen manliness beneath his jeans.
His arms pulled me in closer, our lips finally touching, and he devoured me. My heart exploded with need and I let him touch me everywhere, anywhere, as we learned together.
In spite of the seemingly tough exterior that he showed to everyone else, he was so gentle, generous, and patient with me. I was learning more and more about the boy who was growing into a man and I liked what I saw. He was intriguing, intelligent, and thoughtful in every way. There was an air of mystery about him that kept me wanting more.