▪️Saturday, February 20th, 2018▪️

▪️Chicago, IL▪️

Together.

I slide my hand up from her cheek and into her hair. "Angela Fisher." My blood rages, converts my thoughts into words, and rushes the sounds past my teeth. "I don't understand this, what's happening between us, but I don't have to."

Her lips part, inviting me to stop talking and get to the action we are starving for. But I can't stop. "I want a together." And I want to kiss her so badly I clench my jaw to keep me in the place I am. "I'd love to be by your side every day, but that's not possible. I realize that. Still . . ."

"What?" Her eyes move between mine.

"I need to ask you for something."

Angie lifts her chin. "Ask away."

This is the scariest question I've asked her. And the answer will tell me what's next for us. I swallow the razor of worry and meet her gaze. "Would you be my girlfriend?"

Her eyelashes flutter in a series of quick beats. This is not just a formality for me. This is the agreement I crave, the validation that we are on the same page. Together. I tell her what I want. "Just mine. Exclusively. Openly. Officially. And we'll make it work." I shut up and still for her answer.

Her eyes are dry but they shine the same way they do when she's coming up with a new song: as if the best possible opportunity came her way. I want to believe I am that opportunity.

"For not a poet, that was quite a thing." Her finger grazes the bridge of my nose, halts at my lower lip, and ratchets my heart to a new speed. "Did you know I've never been anyone's girlfriend?"

I shake my head in a no. Her finger doesn't move.

"No one has even asked. I got propositioned. A lot. But that's in recent years. In middle school and high school, I was several heads taller than the boys, and ran back to the piano any free minute I had. Mom jokes I was a late bloomer. I think I was a cactus, and piano was my sun, and I didn't need people to live, not unless they were related to the piano. Like my piano tuner, David. I got him a Christmas present every year. But I wouldn't be able to tell you the names of most of my teachers or classmates."

I move my lips and lightly bite her finger. Knowing more about Angie's childhood is important to me, but only takes her further from answering my question. I expect her to pull her finger out of my mouth, but she doesn't. She watches my lips around her skin, her pupils dilate, and she forgets to talk.

That's not what I'm after. I make sure we won't topple over if I move, take my hand from under the shirt on her back, and remove Angie's distracting finger from my mouth. I kiss her open palm and put it above my heart, where her temple was earlier.

"Is this your way of saying no?"

Angie lowers her gaze to our joined hands over my chest. "No. Yes."

I stop breathing. She doesn't want me.

"No, you idiot. Yes, as in, let's try this stupid thing." She punches me in the center of my chest with her free hand. "Yes, I'll be your. . . girlfriend."

Her punch and her words resuscitate me. Everything she says crawls through my ears into my brain. The disappointment of what I thought was a no morphs into fire beneath my skin of what I know is a yes. A first yes in a list of many I'd like her to say to me. Charming the pants off Angie was the simplest task. Charming her into loving me would be a lot harder, but I'm not one to give up. Angie Fisher is my girlfriend. I wish I had a Facebook account where I could change my status from single to in a relationship, or a rooftop to shout from, "She's mine."

Her fingers escape my hold, create a path of tiny sensitive spots up my neck, tangle in my hair, and pull me down to her mouth. I taste her yes, and her fear, and her trust. My smile widens at the last one. We have a fuckload to learn about each other, but we have time.

We have time.

"Happy grand opening day," she says when we take a second to gulp for air.

"The happiest." I breathe into the closing gap between us.

Today we celebrate.

She tugs on my hair for me to return to her mouth. I resist.

"Say it." I set my eyes on her lips, waiting for them to touch and form a 'b' of the word I want her to say on repeat.

"Say what?" She lifts her gaze to meet mine. The devious sparkle plays in her eyes.

"You know."

Angie licks her lower lip and drags her teeth against the supple skin. I should be the one biting it, but I want to hear the word come out of her mouth. She presses her lips together, cocks her head, and whispers, "Boyfriend."

The impact blows away any remaining guard rails around my heart. Fuck. That's the sexiest word I've ever heard her say.

I kiss the gift off her mouth. "Again." I leave an inch of space between our faces.

"Boyfriend."

More than a whisper. Still not enough.

"Louder." I command.

"My boyfriend," she says in her full voice.

The sound shatters my sanity.

Angie. Is. My. Girlfriend.

Fuck.

We converge. No longer a cooperation between two bodies, but a melding. Her clothes fall on my desk, my dobok hangs on the back of my chair, the couch is open and takes up half of the room. I watch Angie's lithe limbs extract every ounce of restraint from me. Her skin is the kindling I didn't even need. I'm ready for her. I've been ready for her for so long, but today she's not only a beautiful girl I fell for the moment I saw her. She's a partner. She's separate but also indistinguishable from me.

My teeth scrape across her clavicle. My tongue travels around her navel, and I lick the trail of happiness lower until she threads her fingers through my hair and cries out. I groan as her stomach caves under my palms. She pulls my salty lips up to hers, and we enjoy her taste together. The pressure of her calves on my lower back drives us to the next step of our reunion, and Angie takes the wheel. Her mouth travels across the pleasure paths of our bodies. Our chests slide, breaths dip, and hearts beat as one.

The physicality has always been there. The unseen thread as well. But this time we share more: a promise. A belief that we can work, that we won't give up if things get difficult. We confirm our conscious decision to step into the world as two wholes that make a brand-new whole. The world where one plus one equals one. At least that's what I'm doing when I collapse on top of her.

When I wake up, my arm is numb. I don't bother to unglue my eyes but roll to my left to get the blood flowing.

"Mhmm." The sound accompanies a slow thump of her head over my breastbone. She's here, and she's mine. I inhale her scent and smile at the feel of Angie's hair tickling my neck. Her cheek on my chest reassures that she's not running away this time. I caress the line of her spine and bask in the warmth of her thigh wrapped around me.

My arm can move, but so does my brain. Slowly, the film starts rolling. The grand opening. The Whats arrival. Angie's performance. The office. Boyfriend. My eyelids draw up.

The room is dark, but there are still no blinds on the sole window of my office. I see Angie's form sprawled across me. Her idea of getting a couch that could double as bed might've been the best one yet. I move enough to see the clock. Eight seventeen p.m.

Fuckety-fuck. My opening. No way anyone is still here. I left Ben, Marguerite, and Mom to usher the patrons out and close up. I wait for anger at myself and anxiety at not being a perfect host to spread through me, but they don't.

Angie's warmth and nearness provide me with the same feeling I got when I faked being sick and skipped school. No guilt. Just pleasure at doing what I want. My ego is languid, pleased with itself, gloating at the unfinished tasks and people's expectations. My body craved to stay next to her body for so long. It gets to do it for another night, because who am I kidding? I won't get up and leave right now.

"You win," I say to whichever part of me sighs in relief from the knowledge that I'm staying.

"I win," Angie echoes. She slides her leg down and encircles my ankles, rubs her cheek into my chest, drags the fingers of her hand across my stomach, and tucks them under my back. "I win you."

I close my eyes and soak her up. I should feel bad about not being present at the end of the opening, but I'm sure Ben, Mom, and everyone else coped just fine. I'll apologize tomorrow. Tonight, I spend overheating in the grabby embrace of my girlfriend.

Tonight, I give into the deepest, most restful sleep of my adult life.

Spent. Whole. Happy.