post 8 : i know

“I think that we should make out.” He tells me on what was a nice walk back to the train station. 

“Oh you do, do you?” I keep walking, steeling glances at him to my left.

“I’ll rephrase. I think that you think we should make out” A statement that surprises me more than the first. I stop walking and turn to face him, smiling sweetly and stepping a little too close.

“What makes you think you know what I want?” I whisper. To be fair, the guy probably has more of an idea of what I want than I do. I am not surprised when he has the answer.

“It’s a vibe you put out” he explains, as though he’s known me for years when in reality it has been 12 hours. “It’s the way you look; a little bit too long and it’s more like a stare, like you’re trying to tell me something but you refuse to say it out loud. It’s a game, of course.” We come to some stairs and I walk up a couple. He stays where he is. “It’s about power. You’re trying to give the impression that you want me, so that I pick up on it, then it’s up to me to act on it you’re left with a feeling of control. Oh but if I do act on it you’ll probably just shoot me down and pretend that it was me who read the situation wrong all along, right?”

Well, that was insightful.

“You do it with all the boys.” He adds.

I walk down one step towards him, a smile stealing across my lips. “So, am I doing this little manoeuvre right now?” God, I actually was.

“Of course you are. You know you are.” I know I am. The more he said, however confronting and revealing, the more I liked him. I liked that he was brave enough to say it.

“So you think I want to kiss you?” Even if I didn’t before, I do now. I walk the last two steps slowly and come to stand in front of him. He doesn’t reach for me. Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me at all. Maybe he is playing my role. My face is close to his but he stays still. I move slowly towards him and just as I do he moves away from me. I laugh and I and try again. When he moves away for the second time I turn quickly and walk the three steps back up the stairs and turn to look at him.

“How does it feel?” I ask him and he shrugs.

“Empty. Hollow it feels like nothing.” He doesn’t mean it as an insult.

“Interesting” I say when what I am really thinking is that in this state of total vulnerability he has me, I don’t feel in the least bit anxious. Instead, I feel relief; relief that someone finally understands. Not wanting to express this and with a suspicion he already knows I turn to walk away again. This time he grabs my hand and spins me back to face him.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you.”