I made coffee this morning. I put in a splash of almond milk and for a moment it was the color of his eyes. I felt something. Maybe it was sadness, or something more complex. It took me back to the hot summer night in Central Europe, when we cracked the windows of our apartment open to see the moon and to feel the breeze of the coming storm.
Our four other roommates had gone to bed but Louis and I stayed behind. We pretended like we were just staying for a moment but we soon found ourselves laying face to face on the pull-out couch. His dark hair was swept aside and he hadn’t shaved in a few days. His leather bracelets were loose on his wrist and a green gem hung on a string around his neck.
He laid his left arm between our bodies. My fingers moved softly over his pale skin, soothing and tender. We switched off grazing each other’s arms for a while. We talked a bit, but the communication between us that night was more silent than spoken. When we did talk, it was about small things. Movies we’d seen, interesting people we’d met that day, what we wanted to do tomorrow.
We stared into each other’s eyes for a long time, holding the gaze. There was something heavy and powerful between us. An unspoken connection and attraction. But the whole time we knew we shouldn’t do it. He was a long-time friend of my close friend and she was very adamant that she liked him. He was off-limits and we both knew it. We didn’t need to kiss or be physical in any way. Just being in the same room was enough. Every look between us was electric.
When it came to the time I couldn’t keep my eyes open, I pushed myself up on the couch, saying it was time for me to go to bed. He looked disappointed, but I could see that he was tired too. Neither of us wanted to sleep but the instinct was overwhelming. So I walked down the wooden staircase towards his room, which I was staying in while I visited.
In the thirty seconds it took me to get to my room, my mind thought of two things. The first, that there was no way I could really sleep. I felt so energized by his touch that it felt like I stuck a fork in an outlet. The attraction was buzzing through my veins. At the same time, I thought that I might just sleep the moment my head hit the pillow. I was also so calm and at peace. I felt like, if I died, I would be okay. Because I knew what it felt like to be alive. Maybe I hadn’t really lived at all.
In the end, I did lay in bed, thinking just one thought. That thought kept repeating in my head like a mantra. It was raw desire. It was, “knock on my door and kiss me.”