How Did You Get Here?

...Forrest Gump plays. I don’t remember when it was or how it began...

You lay on your pillow and I rest in my palm, on your back.

“You gonna give me a massage?” you mumble, teasingly. Tiredly.

“Haha, now?” I rise up and place my hands on your shoulders. “I’ll try, I don’t know how, though.” I move my thumbs and wrists how they do in the shows, because like literally what even is a massage? At first I’m seeing Forrest do something he might regret, and then my eyes drop to you. Because... wow. I began writing about you in July. It was now October. I’m thinking “how did I get here?” Writing about feeling the curve of your back... and then being in your room and actually feeling the curve of your back.

Being able to perform this most innocent thing, in a very dangerous place. A room, a bed, a girl with a past sexual addiction.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Mhhm,” and I’m watching Forrest on a boat. I don’t get the appeal of this movie. You said it was so simple, Forrest was so simple. That’s why you liked it. Simplicity. A recurring theme with you.

“Wake up!” you stir, opening your eyes. “My turn,” I squeal. I lay down beside where you lay as you rise and retrieve a bottle of lotion. I’m not sure where this is going, but I don’t protest, question; it’s too peaceful, and it’s nice to be in the eye when you don’t know that you’re in a storm. My arms are crossed beneath my chin and I continue to figure out what’s going on in Forrest Gump. You lift my shirt from my back, tucking it around me.

“Oh!” I didn’t expect the cold of the lotion to drip directly onto my skin. A tiny shiver possesses me. Your hands move to the clasp of my bra.

“Now, don’t get nervous. This is just a massage.. I don’t wanna mess up anything,” you say in that voice that tells me you’re smiling or laughing internally, good-heartedly. I can’t help but smile as I mutter "right."

Forrest Gump is saying something, and it isn’t important because all I could think was hands. Hands on my back. Trace’s hands on my back. You roll your palms into my lower back, middle back, neck, my sides. Slow, precise, carefully. I’m kind of jealous that it’s probably a hundred percent better than my poor attempt at a massage. I close my eyes, picturing you sitting on the backs of my legs, touching my body. It’s a beautiful thing.

I shiver, again, internally at the contact.

“Butterflies.”

“Hey, don’t be fallin' in love with me,” you say casually. But there’s an underlying seriousness. Out of concern.

“Why not?” I’m teasing you back, but I’m the slightest worried, disappointed. “You don’t want me to fall in love with you?”

It seems backwards. The opposite of what I thought everyone hoped for: to love and to be loved in return. I believed in love. I believed everyone should have someone to love and love them back.

I want him. I want him to be my someone.

“Like, I just don’t think I’d be a good... fill in the blank.”

The words “why don’t you think you’d be a good boyfriend” hung from my tongue, but never toppled out. That fill-in-the-blank could have been anything I wanted. That’s not why no words stepped forward, though. No. I fell silent for two reasons. Because I wanted to wonder what could be so terrible about a boy whose heart was so good?

The other reason I fell silent: it was too late, darling. I’d fallen for you in August.

It was October now.

I let it pass. I ask a lot of questions and I don't want to be annoying. Besides, today, tonight... now. You are mine and I want to keep you if only tonight.

“Uh oh, I can’t close it back,” you said, fiddling with my bra clasps. “Just kidding, haha!”

I roll my eyes. I know you’d know I did. Then you were stretched beside me. I tried to pay attention and understand your favorite movie. It wasn’t catching me though. I see you in my peripheral vision, studying me.

“How did you get here?” you ask me, or maybe no one. I could have replied "how could I resist?" and list 1000 reasons that you're perfect to me in Point 12, Times New Roman Font including a bibliography and footnotes...

I just turn to you and smile, “You know how I got here.”

Then our second kiss that happened. Our first kiss in your car, in front of your cousin’s apartment waiting for him to come out. Electric. Literally my insides were on fire and my heart banging within my chest. I don’t... Remember ever being so damn hot.

You lean over the midsection of the car... It’s dark, but I can see you smiling, looking at me. I smile as I’m facing you. You lean in more, my eyes follow you. You use your left hand to gently tip my chin towards you. Giving your lips purchase of mine. Your tongue tastes like satisfaction and I enjoy it. It was sweet and it was short... in comparison to the second... that is.

Suddenly, I was atop you, rolling my hips into you. Imagining, oh, God, imagining what it’d be like to ride you. Fuck, I know I want to so bad. I’d promised to myself though. I made a promise that is strange but good to keep.

Then I wasn’t on top.

And you were everywhere. Everywhere my skin allowed.

“What if I’m really a vampire?” You say to my neck.

“Sounds good to me.”

“I’m’a give you a hickey,”

“Yay!” I like hickies. Someone has marked you; you belong to someone.

“Haha, what is wrong with you?” Oh, so many things.

Maybe you did bite to the vein. Cause that fire spread through me quickly, and precisely every time your lips dipped to meet my skin, your teeth grazed my body.

Absolutely pleasing.

Keep me. Keep me, please.

Unfortunately, no love bites were left.

But I was wrapped in you and that’s all that I could focus on.

“I’m glad I got to see you today,” I said.

“I’m glad, I got to see you, too.” You rubbed my back, as I rested on the inside of your shoulder. Forrest was still talking.

We settled into the bed. It was late and you had to go in a few hours. I’d be awake still in a few hours, because hmm... insomniac. You were drifting and so I allowed you to sleep. You deserved it. You needed it.

I slid off the bed and shut everything down. Cutting the lights and climbing back into your side.

You fell asleep on me.