And we certainly weren’t ten anymore.
Cooper hovered close to my mouth for a good, long buildup of anticipation until I felt like a hot-air balloon—floating and drifting at the mercy of the wind.
Then he lifted one of his hands from my shoulder and cupped it behind my neck.
“That never happened,” I said.
“I know,” Cooper said.
Then he slid his other hand behind my waist.
“That never happened, either,” I protested. But weakly.
“I know that, too,” Cooper said.
I was practically lightheaded from all the waiting.
“Here’s another thing that never happened,” he said.
True, I couldn’t see right then. But, maybe because I couldn’t see, I could sense him. More than usual. More than ever before. I could hearhis breath. I could sense his warmth. His hands on me shone like bright things in the universe—something to navigate by, like stars.
I couldn’tseewhat happened next, but I could feel it. I could anticipate his movements the way you sense the rhythm of a song. I could read my senses like sheet music, giving in to the crescendo of it all as Cooper—my lifelong friend Cooper—pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me.
Kissed me like…
Like…
Like his life depended on it.
He kissed me like nothing else existed. He kissed me out of time and space. He kissed me like this one kiss was the answer to everything. He brought us there and then he kept us there, pressing and kneading and cajoling me to soften and open and kiss him back. Which—with no resistance at all—I did. And that’s when he shifted closer and brought the rest of his body into the project, pressing me into place against the wall.
It wasinsistent. Andurging. Like an argument he had to win.
It might have given me a glimpse of eternity.
I can’t be sure.
At the minimum, it was very, very convincing.
Convincing ofwhat? I don’t know.
Maybe of how everything can be totally wrong and exactly right at the same time?
One thing was certain: I didn’t need to know. Or maybe I’d known all along.
I just let that kiss have its way.
Cooper pressed and brushed and savored—and I did all those same things right back to him. It was as good as the hickey—all the shivers and the waves and the astonishment—but it was also better. Because this time, I got to kiss him back.
Had we just beenfighting? I couldn’t for the life of me think why. I was melting, and flowing, and getting so lost—in ways that felt exactly like being found.
And then, abruptly, Cooper stopped.
And stepped back.
And then I was alone, chilled by the breeze. I put my hands back against the balcony partition to steady myself.
I waited for a second, still blindfolded—thinking for sure this couldn’t be the end. Why on earth would anyone ever stop doing something so lovely?
