I liked caramel in my iced coffee. I guess it was something about the sweet & bitter fusing together, like they were perfect for one another. I couldn’t live without it. at least that’s what I told you when we went to the coffee shop on the corner, first date, the atmosphere hued and warm. the august air felt hot and suspended, and iced coffee was the only way to break that spell. well— iced coffee, and you. 

[ you said that caffeine wasn’t “your thing”. I remember trying to prove you wrong, trying to offer you some of mine. I seem to have a habit of doing that. ]

so there we sat, side by side, waves grazing our sandy toes. I was leaning on your shoulder. your hands were running through my hair. I remember how your laugh tousled the breeze, how you called the ocean beautiful, and how you looked at me. 

as the sun set, your hazel eyes danced. the dappled orange mixed with the brown. it was fascinating. beautiful. & I think you caught me staring once. you smiled, put your arms around me. I think i loved you then. 

by the end of the night, I was buzzing. laying on your chest, listening to your words wash over me like waves. feeling the rise and fall of your breathing, rhythmic, calming. there was a pulsing in my heart: rich, glowing. was it the coffee? or the caramel? or was it the way your eyes explored mine as you traced the question mark of my spine? 

maybe it was the coffee, i told myself after you left. 

maybe it was just the coffee.