‘I guess you can tell how I feel about you at this point.’

Somehow it was you that said this and not me. It was a strange feeling, realising I was inside the moment I had been waiting for forever. Nothing could be as perfect as the way I scripted it in my mind, but it took on a more beautiful form in the harsh grip of reality. We were kissing and it was clumsy, our teeth bumping, our tongues pressing at the wrong times. It was too wet. But we carried on until blood swelled to the surface of our lips, until redness blurred outside lip lines, until your stubble scratched my chin pink, until jaws stiffened, until we were back at mine and there was lilac light seeping through the blinds, and it was morning, and nothing could get me out of my bed because you were in it.