Thank you all again for reading and subscribing! I can't even express my feels right now I totally expected this to bomb.

Sorry this took so long to get up. It's by boyfriend's birthday weekend so finding moments to write are few and far between, so sorry if it feel slightly disjointed. Next chapter will be better I swear. (More of the pseudo from the last of this chapter. haha)

As promised, I called, and surprisingly you always called me back. (Surprising that you were actually still interested after that horrible first phone conversation that is.)  The next couple weeks found me spending a lot of time in that little hole in the wall, on that bar stool that had a particular view of a particular bartender as he made his drinks. My time was spent finding ways to catch your eye, to make you smile at nothing, laugh at inappropriate moments. (You should be the first to know mature behavior is not always my strong suit.)

Our first night had not been mentioned again, and as I enjoyed any time I was able to spend by your side, a lingering feeling that I was missing something could not be shook. Your shift was  over, last call bell having rang several minutes ago, meaning your long awaited weekend was about to begin. At least for a minute I let myself forget the coward in me, knowing there was no room for him in this conversation. (He would surely forgive me later.)

You came out of the back, looking tired. School and work had left little room for sleep, you complained. I momentarily questioned whether I should continue, but I had mentally come too far to turn back now.

“You don’t work tomorrow.” I blurted out, far less smoothly than I pictured.

“I know.” you laughed. 

I wanted to kick myself right about now. It was far easier in my fog of disinterest, than under the harsh sunlight of your smile. But somehow I began again. (You had a knack for forcing me out of my comfort zone.)

“You still haven’t come to laugh at my toys.”

“You still haven’t invited me.” you teased.

“Then come tomorrow. We’ll go to dinner. Or something…” I began to trail of when i realized I hadn’t really planned this out. At all.

“A date?” ou laughed, smiling. I opened my mouth but words just piled on my tongue.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” You leaned up, placing your impossibly soft lips against my cheekbone before departing into the cool fall night.

The next evening came far too soon, and I barely had scraped together a plan for the evening. Dating wasn’t exactly my speciality (I’m still not that confident to be frank.) I normally tried to limit my personal intimacy to awkward conversation and drunken one night stands, not hopelessly trying to impress someone far out of my league. Finally ceasing fidgeting with my lapels I headed out the door, not wanting to keep you waiting.

My breath hitched when my eyes finally met yours. You were an ethereal beauty under the dim light overhead, your warm skin glowing, an aura of light seemingly enveloping you. It was amazing to find not every eye in the place on you as you strode to where I sat. (Though with your eyes on me I felt as though no one else was there.) 

We cracked into our first bottle of wine for the evening, silently toasting to each other.  Dinner was quiet, and smooth. We were alone in our own world at that back table, nothing between us but sweet wine and hushed whispers. Or bodies seemed drawn to each other. Hands would constantly graze, legs colliding, leaving me to apologize and you to smile. We were soon finished, our bodies warm with wine, our hearts warm with words.

I needed to cool off and calm down, so I led you away. Down side streets and alleyways we wandered until street lights turned to trees, concrete to grass. The park was deserted in the last lingering traces of twilight, leaving the fading leaves and cool breeze to solely us. Only peaceful silence lay between our grazing shoulders, your long delicate fingers interlacing with my rough callused ones. For the first time in recent memory a sense of normalcy washed over me, and I relished in it. (Though, I would be lying if I didn’t say it thrilled and scared me all at one.) I wasn’t sure where our feet would lead us further down the road, but tonight they led nowhere but the lazy path to my doorstep. 

You laughed at another horrible joke of mine as the elevator opened, our words still loose from wine. I led you to my door, fumbling with my poorly made key before opening it and stepping in. I paused in a brief moment of clarity. There you stood, scuffed boots at the threshold of my inner sanctum, my shelter from reality, and I invited you in.

You removed the boots that so effortlessly stepped into my life, and began to survey the area. I went to the kitchen to continue where we left off at the restaurant with the cotes du rhone. I couldn’t help but wonder if you noticed our similarities as I had that first night, but the light in your eyes gave me my answer. You began to ask where this so called collection was when you came upon the hallway. Rows and rows of toys, vintage, worn, new and boxed met your gaze. You laughed as I handed you a glass, examining each row by row.

After a short (long) while I had finished the lecture you forced my to give on my collection, we retired to the couch, refilling our glasses. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding when your legs tangled with mine in a distantly familiar fashion. The heat of your body filled my hollow chest, spurring my loosened tongue into action. I simply spoke your name, and the look we shared as our eyes met was all we needed to know.

You crawled over to me, legs still tangled, ghosting kisses with your lips stained red. Our lips finally met, this time without the rush and hungered teeth clacking against one another. My hands finally found there way to the expanse of your lower back, relieving you of a moan stifled into my lips, that resonated to the base of my spine. We did not last long on that couch of mine, our tangled limbs eventually leading us down the dim hall, to between my cold sheets. Words were no longer needed between us that night, wanton moans, desperate kisses and lidded gazes spoke volumes more than words ever could. (Not that I was ever good with words when it came to you.)