Unsent Messages

55

Saved as draft - 3/18/06

The first thing I saw was the color pink. I blinked, trying to let my eyes focus, since they were still lined with the remnants of sleep. But I blinked, and the pink didn't go away, nor did my eyes focus on any one thing in particular. Because the pink was everywhere.

It took me a quick second to realize that the color came in the form of flowers. Hydrangeas - coincidentally my favorite.

They were all over: the floors, the benches, the front desk, the window sills. And standing among them, in the middle of the room, was you.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I didn't have any breath. I limply dropped my bag down on the floor by my feet, blinking at you wordlessly.

I didn't have to say anything. You walked up, cupped my cheeks in your hands, and kissed me.

You took me by surprise, that much I knew. The only other thing I knew, because that moment was full of adrenaline and surprise and befuddlement, was that you were warm, and close, and I only wanted you to be nearer. So I wrapped an arm around your waist, and you stepped closer, sliding your hand back to rest on my neck. It was a little clumsy at first, but that was fitting, seeing as we are a clumsy clump of people. But it got better with the ticking seconds, and when you pulled away, your cheeks were inflamed, your eyes alight with excitement.

"I've had the most embarrassingly enormous crush on you since ninth grade," you blurted. Your face paled, realizing your actions, and I could only blink and stare. Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson than they were previously.

You opened your mouth to say something more, still holding my face in your hands, but couldn't seem to find the words. Finally, with a sigh of submission, you said, "I would've done that anyway, eventually, just so you know. But. . . those messages were a good kick in the pants." You smiled awkwardly, in a way that was almost sheepish, and continued. "And, you like these flowers, don't you? I mean, I know this is cheesy. But. . . but cheesy is good, right?"

I couldn't find the words lodged somewhere in the back of my throat, so I nodded.

The corner of your mouth curved upward, as you dragged your thumb down my cheek.

"H-how. . ." was what I began to stutter. "How did you do all this?"

You grinned knowingly. "The flower shop down the street is just fantastic. And, you know, I got a good work-out carrying them all in. And I polished my lacking creative skills as I set them up."

"How did you even get in here?"

You shrugged. "I know a guy."

And slowly, as I watched the smile play on your lips, your fingers touching my skin, I leaned closer, and so did you. "I know what I want," you said, smoothing your thumb over my cheekbone. The words sent a thrill through me, and, more than anything, I was proud of you. "But," you continued, a look of thought falling on to your face, "what is it that you want?"

An overpowering feeling of warmth swelled in my chest. And, since those were the only words that I'd ever wanted to hear, the words that showed me, truly, who you were, I leaned in, closing the distance between us, and let everything else settle itself. So as your arms wrapped around me, holding me close, and I did the same, your lips warm and slow against mine, everything slowly clicked into place.

And the best part? I was exactly where I wanted to be, in every way, form, and aspect. And all was, and is, right in my own little world, which is finally at the forefront of my attention. And I have never been so happy.