I never wanted this. I didn't think it would happen. Meeting someone that means this much to me, that I share so much vulnerability with. But here we were, sitting on his couch. Laughing about nothing, just enjoying each other's company. I looked over at him and noticed him watching me. All my little movements. Like he was trying to memorize this moment.
"You know, sometimes I think I'm too mean to you," he says, worry on his face.
"No, I don't think so," I say, smiling, reaching for his hand. "I like our softer moments like this, but they wouldn't mean the same without our rough moments. I like both."
I turn around on the couch and lay with my head in his lap, looking up. His face makes me smile, but my smile is crooked. It's hard to tell if it's out of happiness or if I'm plotting something new. He watches, waiting for me to try something.
"What are you thinking?" He asks, but I have no answer. I giggle at this snippet of paranoia I have passed on to him.
This is our game. The push and pull of power. We could never be all soft, it's not who we are. We need the struggle, the fight.
His fingers brush my cheek as he decides if he wants to pursue his question. They are searching for their favorite place. I decide to let them find it this time, as his fingers gently wrap around my throat. I sigh, close my eyes.
"What are you thinking?" He asks again, slowly applying pressure.
I try laughing again, but it doesn't come out. I open my eyes, staring up into his. So intense. So serious. A twinge of panic settles in my stomach and I wiggle a bit, trying to find give. There isn't any and I stop. I am now starting to worry, I'm never sure how far he's willing to go. Reaching up, I grab his hand and try moving it, but his grip tightens. He's now smiling, enjoying the panic shining through my eyes. His favorite game.
