Back from the cottage.
His kisses were soft and gentle; clean and dry.
His hands roamed in all the right places, leaving a tingling sensation across my skin.
So different from the last.
The sexual tension between us was strong and even more passionate.
We were slow, trying to remember every curve.
In that moment, I knew I liked him.
We were shy, lying side by side.
taking each minute to fight off the attraction.
But he tested the waters a few times and I gave him all the right answers.
That was how it began.
It was in that moment I remembered that he was leaving.
Suddenly, I knew it was wrong.
We couldn't--and didn't--continue.
Being sensible was difficult.
But he agreed; it would be unfair for both of us.
The night was stretched out in silence.
Morning arrived with gray clouds.
I didn't realize how happy I would be to wake up with him beside me.
He breathed out heavily and once in a while, his fingers twitched.
It was undeniably cute.
Regret washed over me as I watched him sleep soundly next to me.
I like him too much to start anything.
He put his arms around me.
HIs fingers played a symphony along my spine.
We didn't say a word to each other as we laid there in bed.
And then there was that movie moment.
He rolled over me and kissed me ever so gently.
Lifted my head up and held my head in his hands.
Never mind the morning breath because in that moment, he made me feel so loved.
No matter what I look like, he'll like me for who I am: that's how I felt during that morning kiss.
I rolled onto my back and he rested his chin on my stomach.
He stared right into my eyes.
He reminded me of a dog (and I'm a sucker for dogs).
Nothing's awkward but there are burning questions.
Since the beginning of the summer, the primary question from many has been whether I like him still and I think I have my answer.
I despise unhappy endings so much.