we stopped at a motel. we took room number seventeen. i was not one for lucky numbers but seventeen was something i would keep in mind. it was the first motel i have been into that was not back in the town that i loathed every day. i was out of that town and now i was here on the city with camila. camila, the same girl that i met yesterday. the same girl that i kissed. the same girl that i got drunk with. the same girl that i was last seen with on the town. the same girl that listened to my rants back at my rover.
we entered the motel room and it was adequate for us. it was quaint and tidied up. the light was flickering but we barely managed to care about that. camila pushed me against the wall and she locked the door beside me. her lips were moving vigorously on top of mine. i let her have the control for now. her hands were moving all around my body, she took off my sweater and kissed me again and again and again and again.
she pulled away, breathing heavily like me.
“is this okay?” she asked like she was in love with me.
“why not?” i said like i was in love with her.
i placed my hands back on her hips and she had her arms around my neck. she had to tiptoe for a bit to have the rightful height to reach my lips with hers, i was somewhat towering over her every time. it was in my father's genes, from his family. he was on six feet and seven inches the last time i saw him.
i didn't remember my height. i just know that i'm slightly taller than camila's petite figurine.
she pulled on my collar as we kissed more. the room's key slid on her pocket and she moved on from taking off her clothing from her body. i didn't bother to be inquisitive about other things and did the same thing she did.
“why are we doing this?” she asked before kissing me again.
i pulled away, kind of laughing. “i don't know. you tell me.”
“i love you,” she said. i believed her.
“it scares me,” i said, like a kid after being told about a horror story.
her eyebrows met on the middle of her forehead. “what scares you?”
“you. this love. you confessing that. no one cares about me, camila. why do you?” i forgot about the heat of our bodies, and our almost nude bodies across one another. we did this like it was our usual thing. i just never repeated a girl. never ever. i didn't want the same experience. i hated repeating.
there was an exception for camila, though.
“of course i do, silly. you made me love you.”
“we met yesterday,” i tried to reason out despite the fact that i was in contrary about it.
she let out a laugh. “you should know by now that i don't care if we met yesterday. i know how i feel. you should, too.”
“you intrigue me, camila.”
“hm?”
“you, camila. you intrigue me so much.”
then we made out again.