He looked me in the eyes and then looked at my lips. His hands lightly framed my face and slowly inched closer to my face. I watched him hesitate, but it's as if he gained confidence when he pressed his lips to mine. I felt that same shock when he kissed me the first time.
I was so caught up in the moment we were in. I pulled away to catch my breath. He pecked my lips one more time. I accepted it, and I kissed him right back.
Then awkwardness lingered for a few minutes. He ran his hand through his hair – just like he had done last time. I could tell he was nervous. I didn't speak and that is a sign of when I'm nervous. I grow quiet.
He began walking down the stairs and I followed him. I wasn't fond of the uncomfortable feeling that was settling in. I'm just so confused by his actions as they are not lining up with what he tells me. He doesn't date, he doesn't "do" relationships. Then again, Megan and he weren't dating either, but they were (I'm assuming) "talking" at one point. I didn't feel so good about the situation when I began to overthink it.
We hung out a lot, we've gotten to know one another. That's what typical friends do, and that's fine. I enjoy Baylor's company. He's not as bad as I thought. I'm just tired of being confused about it all.
We sat on the couch. He was on one end, and I was on the other. I felt sticky and nasty and less confident now that I'm trying to be confident in myself by coming out of my comfort zone for what I'm about to ask.
"What are we?" I inquired. It took what seemed like forever for him to respond. He kept finding things to get sidetracked by.
Then he finally answered. "Friends." He shrugged it off as if the word didn't mean anything to him. As if everything's that happened, never happened.
"Friends kiss?" I asked.
"Sometimes." He's being short, and I'm getting agitated by the minute.
"No, friends don't kiss. They hang out with each other, joke around. They don't think about kissing one another," I said. My tone of voice was turning ill, and he could tell.
He looked at me with sincerity. "I do." My heart was beating rapidly, pounding as if it would thump out of my chest. He held his stare.
"What do you want to be?" he asked.
I only shrugged my shoulders.
"Why are you shrugging your shoulders? Just tell me what you want." It seemed as if I said something, it all ended up to what I wanted. What about himself? He inched closer to me on the couch. He was right on top of me. I had so many butterflies in my stomach.
"I don't know what I want." Yes, you do, you idiot.
"Well," he paused, "then go on a date with me."
I couldn't believe this was happening right now. I've never kissed a guy, let alone been on a date with one. I've never been asked out on a date. All of this was foreign to me. I was most certainly nervous about the unknown, but I was thrilled to be asked, honestly.
"Sure," I whispered. I felt his lips crawl into a smile against my freckled skin on my shoulder.