After margaritas and Midnight in Paris,
you walked me to my car,
hand resting in the small of my back.
- “I had a really great time, Ceddy.”
“Me too, Sam.”
“Thank you for getting the tickets.”
“No prob — and of course I would get them!”
Before I arrived,
I was unsure of whether or not
you had asked me on a date.
- “I’m going to Athfest this weekend.”
“Let’s plan something for next week, then.”
“Sounds good to me!”
Hugging me close, I heard
your heart beating as quickly as mine.
Pulling back, you rested your hands on my hips.
Inwardly, I reminded myself to breathe.
- OH MY GOD — is this really happening?
I’m on a date with my hot friend
who I’ve known four and a half years!
You softly pressed a kiss to my lips,
reducing me to a giggling, shaking mess.
Pleased with yourself,
you opened my car door and grabbed my butt.
- “Ceddy!”
“What?”
“You grabbed my butt!”
“So? You liked it.”
“So?”
While it was the best (second) first date ever,
each thereafter has been
even better than the one before.
