𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞

Oh, you kissed me
just to kiss me,
not to take me home
-Leith Ross

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

March 2016,

I don't like reminiscing on the way I acted after Tenny told me what Red did to him. I was selfish, and I was reckless. I didn't act like a friend. I acted like a drunk.

I did everything I shouldn't have done, and I ruined us because of it.

But that doesn't matter anymore. I don't have to write about what happened after that because I'm fixing it, now.

And me and Tenny are better than we've ever been.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I wake to the sound of the door creaking open. It's Tenny, he's woken up before I have. Sun is shining through the window. Tenny's hair is wet, and his chest is bare. There's a pair of sweatpants, low on his waist. I sit up in his bed, gather the blankets beneath my chin.

He smiles at me. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," I say, and I watch him hang a towel over his closet door. I count his ribs as he reaches above his head. I can see his shitty tattoos; my name over his heart. The one he could have covered, but didn't. My chest swells. I throw back the sheets, pat the mattress. "Come here."

So, he does. Tenny crawls in beside me, a big grin on his face as he wraps his arms around me. He's happy that way, I know he'd spend the whole day that way, asking for nothing more. But I watch the water drip from his hair, and I've seen this all before. "Remember the night we walked through the tornado?" I ask, and he nods. "I wish I had been sober, then."

"Me too."

I stare at his lips. "We're sober, now."

He looks down at me, an unreadable expression on his face. But I can feel his heart thumping. I can see his jaw tense. And he looks perfect, glowing from the sun. I think Tenny belongs in the sun. I press my lips on his, but I'm not careful like he was. My kisses are hurried, my tongue feels desperate.

When I pull away, my face is flushed and his lips are pink.

I tug my shirt off over my head, watch as his eyes rake over my body. My skin tingles, letting him see every part of me, in the light. I wait for my head to rush, for the air to escape my lungs, but it doesn't come. I just see Tenny; I feel his fingers trace over my skin: over my arms, my collarbone, my breasts.

And I want him, so much that it hurts.

I'm pulling him onto me, my spine pressing into the mattress. He kisses me, as carefully as before, even as I rush him for more. But he doesn't hurry. His touch is soft, his kisses are gentle: down my neck, down my sternum, at the hem of my shorts.

He looks up at me, his dark eyes shielded by messy hair. His cheeks flush pink, and he's staring at me with a glimmer in his eye. His voice is hoarse, as he asks, "Is this okay?" And I nod, letting him slip off my underwear. Goosebumps spring up as his fingertips brushed down my thighs, down my legs, all the way to my toes.

He's looking at me, all of me, like he's never seen me before.

He kisses every part. His lips on the inside of my thigh, and every time he moves closer, he looks back up at me. "Is this okay?" he asks, again and again, and I'm nodding until I can't stand the slow torture, anymore.