It was a cold Febuary night and the stars were like bits of frost scattered on the darkness of the sky. It was cold, you could see as we exhaled (perhaps a little quicker than usual?) and the great clouds of white made it look like we were breathing the dreams our minds were wrapped in.

I leant in to kiss him on the cheek in that painfully friends-only way. I'd done so many times before in spite of the wild rebellion in my breast, I thought I was resigned!

But I wasn't the only one. He'd leaned in also, naturally, unexpectedly, accidentally...

Startled we both pulled back with the look in our eyes of startled creatures, that same animalistic magnetism drawing up closer again (or was it the cold?) I didn't care.

"I'm sorry" came the mist-wreathed reply, hot embarassment melting chill away.

"It only matters if you do it again." Was his quiet response. (an invitation?)

The cold night turned fire, our lips did collide, and the dispassionate stars seemed all the brighter with our flame.


Anonymous
08:40:29 PM