It was as if you were a cat. 

The certain ways that I would touch you. If I cupped your cheek with my hand; your eyes would close, you would lean into my hand and your breathing would fall calm. 

If I traced your , my index finger trailing down your spine. You'd slightly arch your back or you'd gently bite your lip. 

If I that certain area between your shoulder blades. Your eyes would close and you'd stop moving, no matter what you were doing. 

If you were a cat, in those moments you would be purring. 

I guess it's from all those nights. In those moments after the , where it's just heavy breaths and hands almost but never really touching every inch of each other. In those moments I think I learned you were just like that cat I always wanted but never had. Maybe it was the mewl sounds you'd always make too, but you deny ever making those sounds. 

"Most times, when I'm having , I'd rather be reading," You said on a late Sunday afternoon. You had your reading glasses perched on your nose, a book in your hands and your eyes glued to the pages. 

I would look up from my phone and stare at you. The fading sunlight would make your light brown hair look blonde, I fell deeper and deeper. 

"Most times when I'm reading," I said once you looked up, "I'd rather be having ." 

We knew each other's likes and dislikes like the  back of our hands. You liked reading, I preferred video games, you hated cucumbers, I enjoyed them until I met you. 

You would stay silent for a moment before smiling. "I guess we can meet halfway," You'd stand and neatly place your book onto one of the many shelves. 

I would smile as you slowly walked towards me, slowly leaning in. I could feel your breath against my lips before I closed the gap between us. 

Another time, a Thursday morning. 30 minutes before classes started and we were standing next to the vending machine.