8. MAYBE IT’S ME #3
But I don’t get it. I see it all so clearly in my dreams, and we’re a couple.
It’s all so vivid, and I finally saw his face for the first time a few nights ago.
And we’re living. We’re enjoying life together, and this isn’t a complication in those dreams. We’re happy and in love, and together.
And I long for that. I need it. I just don’t know how to get there; it feels impossible.
Kenneth lowers his camera to his side, adjusting the strap slung across his body, and stares openly at my face. His eyes flick from my eyes to my lips rapidly, back and forth, until I feel dizzy from watching him. He steps even closer to me, leaning in until his lips almost brush against mine.
“Tell me not to kiss you and I won’t,” Kenneth whispers. “But if you have no objections, I’d really like to feel your lips against mine again.”
Fuck.
I feel helpless as I whimper, and his eyes dilate to near black at the sound. “Kiss me,” I breathe.
Kenneth smiles against my lips and kisses me softly. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe I thought the other night was a fluke. That I wouldn’t feel the same electric shock against my lips when his connected with mine again. I was obviously delusional.
His lips move over mine, and it feels inevitable—the pull between us. I know we’re meant to be together. I’m as sure of it as I’m sure that the ocean’s waves must return to the shore, and the knowledge steals my breath away.
I am Conrad Moore, and I am in love with Kenneth Dunn.
How do I know this with the same certainty that I know one day we’ll all die? How do I feel this in the depths of my soul when I’ve only seen him, been with him, a few times? It’s unexplainable, illogical, and yet I feel the truth with every beat of my heart. It beats solely for him.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He is mine, and I am his.
Until I take my last breath, and even after.
Kenneth keeps the kiss mostly chaste, pressing his lips to mine softly once more before pulling away completely.
He rests his forehead against mine, looking into my eyes.
I feel bare, as if he’s peeling back the layers of my soul that hide my deepest, darkest secrets.
I wonder how scared he’d be to learn of my feelings for him.
It’s with that thought that I close my eyes, hoping they’re not a window to the soul after all.
I’ve never needed them to hide me more than at this very moment.
I clear my throat, “Do you want to get a drink?” I ask him, opening my eyes once more.
He takes a step back, nodding slowly as he looks at me with a strange expression.
I don’t ask him about it, don’t dare to question what he’s seen in my eyes.
He doesn’t seem spooked, though, and that’s a step in the right direction.
“Yeah,” Kenneth says. “Grab us a table. I’ll be right back.”
I find a table near the corner of the bar, a two-seater, and plop down onto a chair.
Kenneth has disappeared behind a sea of bodies, but it doesn’t take very long for him to return with the same drinks he ordered on our first date.
Sex on the Beach. There’s a smirk on his face as he sets them down on the table and takes his seat, and I narrow my eyes playfully.
“I’m starting to think you’re sending me some kind of message,” I say. I’m flirting, I realize. It comes so easily with him.
“Maybe I am.” He winks, taking a sip of the drink. I do the same, the flavor exploding on my taste buds.
I want to taste him instead. I want my mouth over every inch of him tonight.
The realization stuns me. I was sure I’d want to wait to give him this part of me, scared he’d finally get what he wanted all along and walk out of my life for good.
But I don’t want to wait anymore. I know I should still be pissed off that he ghosted me, but I understand he was scared.
I’m scared too. The difference is that I have this entire lifetime or timeline playing on a loop in my brain, one I’m not even sure is real, but gives me the advantage of feeling like I know him.
I’m sure I’ve been intense, and that freaks him out, so it feels like I need to be a bit more understanding.
So what if I should take it slow for the sake of my heart?
I don’t really want to anymore.
There’s an image of him playing in my head in 4K. One I’ve seen over and over in my dreams. His ass, in front of my face, me spreading his cheeks to lower my mouth to him. His pink hole clenched tightly until I soften it with my tongue, then relaxing enough to let me fuck him with it.
“What are you thinking about?” Kenneth asks with a smirk, then takes another sip of his drink.
“You,” I reply, looking straight into his eyes. They widen. “Us.”
“Is that so?” He chuckles. “In what context?”
“Too dirty to tell you.” I grin, and he laughs. “I’d rather show you.”
Kenneth’s eyes are lust-filled and dark as he gazes at me, and I feel myself tense with the want coursing through me at full speed. “So show me.”
“Come home with me,” I tell him, feeling this urgent need rise within me. “Let me show you how much I want you.”
Kenneth nods quickly, rising from his seat and extending his hand, drink forgotten. I take it, and he looks into my eyes intently, then turns to lead us through the bar and out into the busy street.
“Lead the way,” he says when I come to his side, matching his stride. “Take me home.”
Home.
I fucking wish.