When the day came, I'm not shy to admit that I was nervous. In fact, I had two very rapid rum and cokes before I even left the house. My housemate was there, full of encouragement, but I was still nervous. Here I was, barely sure of who I was (I mean, three years of repression and being a certain way, the lines had somewhat blurred) and I was somehow meant to impress this amazing guy.
Though something strange happened. I just plugged myself into some good music (Halestorm if you guys are interested) and I just lifted my head. I mean, he had asked me out afterall. Not the other way round. And all I did was chat. In all honesty, I don't remember much of what was said either. And yet, I must have done something right because here I was, stood outside my favourite place in the city, my heart going like I'd downed a litre of energy drink, about to meet this gorgeous guy.
So I went for it. And do you guys know what he did? He'd remembered the exact brand and mix of my favourite drink and had it waiting for me when I walked in. Even though it was close enough to his that he could have easily gotten two (and hell, I'd have been happy with anything at that point). But he'd remembered after two weeks and being told once.
I think it was the wicked smile that accompanied the drink that actually made me give him one back and take the seat opposite though.
And honestly, I've not looked back once since.
The date was.. well to be honest, perfect. We talked, and talked, and talked. We barely drank because we were so busy talking. We laughed and shared a little of ourselves. And when it came for me to leave (there was the last bus to catch) we took so long to get there that there was nothing for it but for me to leave with him. I stayed at his.
And well, we shared a bed. And to be honest, I thought that nothing was going to happen. I lay awake, mind racing, enjoying being close, but disappointed that nothing had happened. I mean, he hadn't so much as held my hand, let alone made a move. Had I done something wrong?
Almost as the thought crossed my mind, he rolled over to face me. And the next thing I know is that I'm experiencing what is the most amazing kiss I've ever had.
In the half light, I saw him give me a grin and say "I've waited all night to do that."
I smiled back with "So have I."
We kiss again, getting more passionate. Clothing disappears. He pauses, braced above me.
"Are you sure?" His concern, unfeigned despite his obvious desire touches me deeply. I pull him down and kiss him again, smiling.
"I don't normally do this, but yes." And I knew that I meant it, that even if this turned out to be nothing more than tonight, that I would never regret this.
"Neither do I." He gives me an embarrassed smile. "But good."
And he takes his time. He shows me that sex can be amazing, something to be enjoyed. I feel a flicker of guilt, as he is still unaware of my past, but that is quickly swept away.
As we lay together after, him holding me like in all of the best books, he looks at me and says
"I don't want this to just be a one-off thing. I want this to become a regular thing."
At that moment, I felt like singing. I had an incredible rush of happy adrenaline and was honestly speechless for a few moments. I beamed, kissing him again and replying.
"So do I."