recklessness

I'm in love with him.

I'd die for him.

So then why do I feel my eyes light up when I look at you?

Why does the platonic love I feel for you spread like a fire in my chest when you accidentally touch my hand?

Why does the drive home feel so much shorter when you're the one taking me there?

All these things I wonder as he adjusts his grip on the steering wheel and leans back comfortably in the driver's seat. The last few blocks back to my apartment have never felt this empty. Why couldn't there have been traffic tonight?

I'd kill to spend just another thirty minutes with him. Okay, an hour.

What about a night? How would his body feel on top of me? How would his hands feel in my hair? His lips on mine?

God...

I shake the image out of my head, knowing my mind shouldn't be wandering into these dangerous places. Knowing that I'm going home to the apartment that I share with my boyfriend.

"I gotta move out of my place soon," he says tiredly, tousling his hair with his left hand.

We'd been driving in silence for the last couple minutes, so I couldn't help but wonder where his mind had just gone. How he'd mentally arrived at that comment.

I half smile at him. "It's easier said than done."

"Tell me about it." He sighs. "I just want a quiet place with chill roommates that doesn't cost my monthly paycheck. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes. It really is," I deadpan.

He rolls his eyes playfully.

"If it's worth anything, I'd totally be your chill roommate if I wasn't already committed."

"I'd love that," he replies and glances over at me, as if wanting me to know he's serious.

"Me too." I glance out the window at the glistening streets from the light rain earlier. The way it looked right now-the dark sky broken up by a few streetlights, reflected in the damp ground-always gave me these inexplicable kinds of feelings. Like those magical movie moments were possible. Like in real life we could feel what we only ever are able to see on a big screen. "Part of me wishes I was still single."

My words were heavy with many meanings that he could interpret. I didn't really mean to say something so real and vulnerable. It had kind of just slipped out.

I watch his eyebrows crinkle in confusion but his gaze stayed on the road. "Are you not happy?"

I swallow hard. "I am. I just wish I'd had more life experiences before I settled into a serious relationship. You know...traveled by myself, gone out with girlfriends, kissed more guys." I shrug, then throw him an almost apologetic look. "I guess I shouldn't be complaining."

I tell myself this is the reason why I'm so curious what it would be like to kiss him. Because I'd only ever kissed one boy in my life. But I know that wouldn't be true of any of my other guy friends.

"You can, though," he argues. "I think that's a totally valid thing to regret."

He pulls up to the curb next to my apartment building and I sigh, disappointed this night is over.

"Thanks," I say, unsure if I'm thanking him for the ride home or for validating my feelings. I give him half a smile, then lean over the center console to hug him goodnight.

I swear I don't mean for it to last longer than two seconds, but his breath in my ear is so warm and his hand is rubbing gently on my back, like he wants this hug to last longer too. This touch from someone other than my boyfriend...it feels nice.

Or maybe it only feels nice because it's him.

I feel him bury his nose into the crook of my neck, then his lips are brushing my jawline. I wonder for a split second if it's an accident, but then he's kissing my cheek. Over and over again, only moving a centimeter each time he presses his lips down on my skin.

His curved, full mouth that I'd studied so many times was now on me, and, god, it felt wonderful. Gentle and sweet and the culmination of sharing three years of friendship together.

So he felt it too. This growing tension between us. This growing need and want for each other. And he clearly wasn't as afraid as I was to show it.

This much made sense, because he had nothing to lose. Whereas I had who I considered to be the love of my life just upstairs.

But in this moment, I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't keep wondering what it would feel like. The recklessness built inside of me until it felt like a wave that was about to crash over me.

And so when his lips finally find mine, I don't stop him. Instead, I melt into him, feeling the electric jolt between us. His hands are in my hair and mine are on his neck and I let myself just not think and not feel bad about it.

His experience with women is obvious, almost adamant as he kisses me hard and passionately. How could I not notice? How could kissing him not be amazing?

A solid single knock on the car window jolts me away from him and I open the door to see him.

The self-proclaimed love of my life. His arms are across his chest defensively and his face is flushed with sadness, anger, and betrayal.

My heart is in my throat as he turns silently and walks toward our building. I follow him, not daring to look back.

My phone buzzes in my hand as I climb the stairs solemnly. Tiredly. Regretful and disappointed in myself. But also feeling love and desperation for the boy that I'd just walked away from.

I read the message mindlessly, only able to think about the dreadful conversation I'm about to have within the four confined walls of my apartment.

I can't tell if it's sarcasm or hurt or just plain honesty in the text message, because all it says is now you've kissed another guy.