September 21, 2008
By Skyla Frank, Brandon, FL

We’re walking to his light blue Ford, and as I stop to look at it, he unlocks the car, and changes direction to take me in his arms and kiss me.
It takes me by surprise, and for a moment, I stand there with my eyes open, looking at his closed eyelids and black lashes before closing my own eyes.
He backs away, smiling at me, and all I can utter is, “Wow”
He smiles even more as I get my thoughts together, “that was… Unexpected.”
“I was aiming for that.” He says with a chuckle in his voice.
We get into the car and he turns on the radio. Though the music is almost blaring, it’s only background noise in my mind as I watch him fix his mirrors and start to back up.
I continue to watch him as he concentrates on getting through the complicated parking lot, and as I’m surveying him, he takes my hand and kisses the top of it before placing our still intertwined fingers and clasped palms between us.
We talk about useless matters, unimportant topics as we leave and make our way to the nearest gas station.
He tells me he has to let go so he can turn, and even though I know he’ll take it again as soon as he’s able to, I feel a small stab of pain as his hand leaves mine and I long for the warm touch of his palm against mine, the brush of his fingertips against the top of my hand as his thumb traces circles on my wrist.
Though we haven’t bee together for long, I catch myself wanting to be with him as long and as much as possible. And I often catch the little things that he does make me giddy and anxious, but always longing for more. More of him, more of his touch, more of this time to ourselves, more of these words being passed between us. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of this.
I still can’t believe that he’s mine, and I think that perhaps my mind still needs reassurance by being as close to him as possible. He doesn’t seem to mind as I follow him inside so that he can pay for the gas, and so I can get a muffin.
He pays first, and then as I pay, he waits patiently for me.
He gets to the pump, and begins to pump his gas as I set my muffin in my seat so that I don’t have to hold it as I press myself against him, my arms around his waist.
He kisses the top of my forehead as if he’s been doing it for years and it’s the most natural thing in the world before saying, “You don’t have to stand here with me, you can sit in the car.”
“I know,” I reply happily as I look up at him, “I don’t want you to stand here by yourself. I like being around more than sitting in the car by myself.”
He smiles and kisses me before the pump he’s using clicks. I untangle myself from him so that he can put the nozzle in its place, and wait for him to join me in the front seat before we drive off.
Once again the radio ‘blasts’ and he holds my hand, every once and a while brining it carefully to his lips, and when we stop for a red light, presses those same lips against my own.
I float up on a cloud of happiness, and as the sunlight sparkles through my closed lids, I hope and pray for this not to ever end.

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