It was far too quiet before we kissed. Not a word was spoken between either of us, he just suddenly found me. He didn’t ask, but then again why should he? I still wasn’t prepared for the moment his lips met mine. I knew I must have looked like a dead fish, standing there lips out, with barely any emotion as his mouth hungrily searched for the passion in mine. His arms were wrapped around me, pulling me into him as though he hoped he could absorb me and my loneliness. My arms still hung loosely to my side, never moving. I was lost, unsure what to do. I seemed to always be afraid of the moment.

The torturous feel of his rough palms on my skin made what little substance I had in my stomach react angrily against me. It was threatening to come up and ruin the romance he was desperately trying to create. Hair fell in his eyes as the brown hue searched for something I couldn’t provide. I turned away, unwilling to let him see the disgust that was building behind the blues in mine.

I gently touched his chest as his lips pulled away and he warmed me with his embrace. There was still layers of clothes between the two of our bodies, keeping us at a distance that brought a security I felt but didn’t really need. My eyes wandered to the bedspread we were huddled closely together on; the flower print screamed an innocence I was no longer privy to. Tears welled behind my eyes as I curled my hand, moving it from his heart, beating heavily through his rib cage, to his arm, hard and strong as it steadied my body, keeping it from floating away. I listened for the sound of his breath to grow slower as he drifted off to sleep.

Feelings seemed so hard to emote now. Nothing was easy, it was all just a motion I had practiced and become accustomed too. I was a brilliant actress in hiding the pain that constantly consumed my every movement. If he noticed, he kept it to himself. A smile was all he needed to feel assured that I was where I wanted to be. And he could never tell if it was a smile that was stretched far too tight to ever be taken seriously. ‘Beautifully oblivious’ is what he was. That’s why I chose him, and because of that I was kissing lips that were still too unfamiliar.

I traced the line from his forehead to his chin and thought of how he was someone else’s everything. Someone else woke up every day wishing he still had their arms wrapped around them and yet I only felt suffocated by the closeness they created. I moved his heavy arm from it’s grip around my waist and pushed my body toward the wall, because that was all the togetherness I could absorb for one night. Tomorrow would be another day of avoiding touches and forcing words. All for reasons I was told would help but couldn’t understand.

Maybe tomorrow it would all seem worth it. Maybe tomorrow it would be clear. Maybe.