Eight Hours

I'm sitting at a table where I have a clear view of the door, the glass of Merlot warm in my hand. I try to remember how they taught me to hold a wine glass properly that one time I went wine tasting. By the stem? Or was that only for white? Anyway, I'm trying to appear classy. I cross and uncross my legs nervously, tug at my shirt and try to sit up straighter. I smooth my hair twice and then tell myself to stop moving so much...we're classy remember?

Everything suddenly speeds up and slows down at the same time. Out of the corner of my eye I see the waiter lean down to refill a glass, the liquid appears to stop mid pour. I look around, trying to figure out if I'm frozen too. I shake my head, what's in this wine?

I look back towards the door and see you walk by the window, looking inside. Our eyes meet for a second, for a lifetime. You look down and I see the world's most beautiful smile play across your lips. The knots in my stomach suddenly release, and I realize that I'm not sure how long they've been tangled that way. I feel a warmth spread through me as if my cells were suddenly coated in whiskey, as if I were being wrapped from the inside out. You reach for the door handle in slow motion and just as suddenly as it all stopped, everything came back to life. The wine sloshed in the glass from the waiter's bottle, the door swung closed at a normal pace.

You walk over to me, I stand up and with every ounce of control somehow manage not to knock over my glass. We embrace awkwardly, shyly. You sit down as the waiter comes over to take your order. You ask if I want another, and I respond that I'm okay for now. I indicate to the half empty (and second, but you don't need to know that I got here 20 minutes early) glass on the table.

The conversation isn't remarkable. Colleges, families, hobbies - typical first date chatter. But the ease in which we have it feels significant. As does the way you let me finish speaking before responding, and the way you thoughtfully consider what I say before carrying on the conversation. The way your smile lights up your face also strikes me, almost as much as how your chest fills out the gray sweater you're wearing. A little tight, but not too tight - the way most men can't quite figure out. I realize that you asked me a question as I was appreciating the slight V of your sweater. Embarrassed and a little flustered, I respond with "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said it looks like they’re closing up, can I walk you to your car?"

"Oh, yea I guess it’s getting late. Sure, let’s head out." I flash you a flirty smile.

You help me with my jacket, and we head towards the front door. You open it for me, and I feel your hand on my lower back as you follow me out.

We walk down the street for a few minutes before you turn towards me.

"Look, I know this is the part of the evening where I walk you to your car, and we both try to play it cool about whether or not we want to see each other again. But here's the thing, I'm not ready to say good night to you yet...do you want to walk around for a bit?"

I try and fail to hide the blush that fills my cheeks.

"Yea, actually that would be great. I want to hear more about this failed band you were in in high school."

You laugh and pretend to be hurt as three hours fly by in the blink of an eye. We walk around the city, joined at first by others celebrating with friends and significant others. We trade stories of misguided youths and college party years, weaving through jokes and lessons learned with such ease that I forgot I didn't know you six hours ago. The night begins to quiet as bartenders warn last call, and girls take off their high heels and not care anymore how they look eating a burrito.

We somehow find ourselves sitting on a park bench, looking out onto the river and hearing the water crash softly into the dock. The conversation navigated to more serious topics effortlessly and you tell me about how much you love your sister, and the complicated relationship with your dad. Our eyes meet and there's an intensity that's shared for a minute, an understanding...a connection. You look away and off to the side, a message I understood and empathized with: too much, too soon.

I make a joke to ease the tension, something I can always be counted on to do. You laugh and I hear a silent thank you in it. You ask me about traveling and Harry Potter - I talk your ear off as Gryffindors tend to do. For the last hour I have noticed you trying to lean closer, trying to close the touch barrier in a way that comes across as natural. I can almost hear your internal monologue of "Okay grab her hand, it's right there. Just move over a little and then we'd be touching. Or should I ask if she's cold? No that would be weird, it's the middle of summer. But maybe she would appreciate it - okay stop overthinking this."

Eventually you stretch your arm around me, pulling me into you. I lay my head on your chest and the feeling is new and familiar at the same time. A memory flashes through my mind of looking back at my mom's house before driving away to college, feeling home for just one moment more. You smell good, too good for a guy who has been walking around and sitting on a park bench for close to eight hours. The night turns from black, to dark gray, to a light blue as the sun creeps over the water. We're quiet for a few minutes, the longest gap in conversation of the night...I don't think I've ever wanted to fill a silence less. Your grip tightens around my shoulder and I lift my head to look at you. Your hand finds its way to the side of my face and you finally kiss me. Slowly, sweetly, perfectly.

I close my eyes, and everything speeds up and slows down at the same time.

I open them and it's early evening. I'm smoothing my hair, nervously crossing and uncrossing my legs - the glass of Merlot warm in my hand. You reach for the door, swinging it open as your eyes meet mine. You smile for a second and nod as you walk past my table. I turn my head slightly allowing my gaze to follow you, wanting to see where you land. You walk up to girl sitting a few tables back, holding her wine glass perfectly - effortlessly cool. You lean down and greet her with a kiss, her face lighting up at you in return.

I sigh slightly and shake my head.

"What a lucky girl", I think to myself.