Fingertips slip down my arms as we dance. My back is to you, your breath is hot on my neck, and our bodies move together in time with the music playing. A million eyes could be on us, but we’d see only each other. When your arms wrap around me, I lace our fingers together and close my eyes. With a soft kiss to my neck, chills break out on my skin and you smile against my ear. I know I’m blushing but I don’t care.
There’s something about that moment when you catch my eye across the club. We’d planned it this way because the anticipation of meeting is usually better than the actual event. Some silly “he loved me… now he doesn’t” song is playing when you walk in. As you get closer, the smile on your face spreads.
The argument started in the club and ended at the front door of our apartment with a loud slam. I wasn’t wrong and you weren’t right but no one could tell us anything. So I slept on the couch and you took our bed.
The kisses are passionate and hurried. I guess I want to make sure I get her in a compromising position before she manages to change her mind. Lips are nibbled, clothing is shed. I’m not sure if I’ll find that shirt in the morning but I don’t really care. Her tongue in my mouth, on my neck, against my ear when she whispers, “You’re so damn beautiful.” I shiver but I don’t care if she felt it.
She’s been gone for 3 days and I’m quickly going nuts. I miss her. Every little thing about her. How she laughs, blinks, snores, breathes ….everything. To provide the slightest bit of comfort, I pull open a drawer in her dresser where she keeps her old t-shirts. Bringing it to my nose, I take a deep breath, “Babe, I miss you.”
I think it’d start as soon as I walk into the bar. I feel fairly certain we’d play it “safe” at the game. Your first WNBA game in the US. You’re probably going to watch the door because I’ll get there later than you….I’ll make it a point. I wanna walk in and have you know.. I’m there…for one person and one person only… you.
The bass is hard. The temperature is hot. Bar in the front, dancing in the middle, pool in the back…thankfully Aussie pubs aren’t much different from American bars. I don’t really attract that much attention until I open my mouth and order a coke. Then every eye is on the American with the weird accent ordering a decidedly “wimpy” drink. I shake off the stares with a smile as I peel my glasses off.