We were “just friends” who both wanted so much more
He was everything I was looking for that night. Handsome, sweet and comfortable to be around. We came back to my apartment, both with the same idea in our heads. The feeling filled the air, the type of tension that makes it hard to breathe.
As he got closer to me, I could smell him – the sweat on his shirt, a faint reminisce of the cologne on his skin, the smell of wine on his breath. I couldn’t think of anything other than his lips against mine. His fingers slipped down my back, gracing every curve and imperfection on my body. As I began to turn hot from his touch, nothing happened. His hand pulled away.
We were just friends after all.
As we laid on my bed and waited for the alcohol to take over, the feeling came back to me. The empty sinking feeling under my skin. Isn’t this what I had wanted all along? Then why was I so afraid to make a move? He reached over for another drink and so did I. No matter how much I tried to run from my feelings, they always crept back up to me. Eventually he ended up falling asleep. The night was restless for me.
Although I wanted something to happen between us, I didn’t regret the night. We still coexisted together in my mind and in-between the words we spoke to each other, which was good enough for now. The morning came around, we both laughed about the night, and I escorted my could-have-been lover out the door.
