Everything about us has been slow.
First date hand holding. No kiss.
Second date kissing. Nothing more.
Third date your place. The walk from my car is cold. You wrap me in a blanket and lay me on the bed.
You remember I like comedy shows and turn on one you think I’ll like.
I like it.
I lay wrapped in a blanket. Wrapped in your arms. The comfort of decades wrapped in a man I barely know.
I’ve texted my friend your address, “just in case you turn out to be a psycho.” And, I confess that to you. Please. . . don’t be a psycho.
My first admission of vulnerability. You look at me thoughtfully. And pull me in tighter.
We watch, and laugh, and pause to kiss. You say sweet things in Spanish that I don’t fully understand.
It’s slow.
It’s late. We both have too much to do before morning.
We kiss again.
We unwrap from each other. I stand up and you stare at me. “What?” I laugh. Slightly self conscious of my messy hair and disheveled clothes.
You walk toward me. You hold my face in your hands and lean in close. “You look like a beautiful warrior.”
Your eyes are black pools. They seek to know me. You want to learn me. Slowly.
You kiss me. Deeply. My grip on you tightens. You like it.
How fast we fell into this slow burn.