Intoxicated on alcohol and bad decisions that threatened to overflow the precipice they tottered on so carelessly, it was all happening so fast. Strong arms and a quick goodbye turned into lips meeting instead as those arms started to draw away. Lips that met with instant chemistry, the taste of something genuinely wonderful, the start or as was more likely the case, the end of something amazing. It was hard to be anything more than that kiss and the soft texture of those lips when the alcohol rode her awareness and dampened it. So for several breathless moments the only thing that existed was the touch of those lips, not even able to control the gentle moans that escaped her each time the kiss deepened and took on a frenzied tempo anew. Hands hovered and threatened, cupping the air just above the curve of her breasts, but remained tightly withheld. Just their lips meeting over and over as if they would quench this inexplicable thirst with just that kiss.
"I have to go." Did she only imagine the reluctance in his voice? Was her desperate sub conscious only teasing her with the impossible possibility.
"I know." Ever the understanding. The martyr. The good girl. She knew better. She knew what it was. Every dear Abby, sitcom, movie and woeful ice cream confessions with girlfriends told her the rules and outcomes of this particular scenario. But still her chin dipped downwards to hide the heart break and loss of hope that painted her features in the dim light of the hotel room.
Remorseful goodbyes seemed to be spoken in quiet succession as he walked out the door. But her addled focus was left behind on that kiss. Trying to memorize all the details of the taste and touch and sound.
As soon as the door closed behind him, she sank to the floor as though she was a doll, a puppet whose strings were cut mid show. Body melting downwards as she crumpled, face to her cupped hands as her new dress pooled around her folded legs. Her chest felt too tight. Her head swam. Her heart sank.
Clumsy fingers sought her phone, as tears flooded her eyes, threatening, but not quite falling. Mind screaming 'no' in dichotomy to that sinking feeling in her chest that begged her to do something. Anything.
Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, the text fired off to the mutual friend in charge of driving him home. "Bring him back."
Almost immediately she wished she hadn't. She knew the circumstances. She knew the rules. The impossibility hung heavy in the air and the echoing sound of the door that had closed long minutes ago. So she sat, shoulders as heavy as her heart and conscious.