Across the café table from you, I watch you with a nervousness I’ve not felt before. I opened the door and finally invited you in and now…now, I feel like I’m standing before you, naked and vulnerable.
Our beginning was slow and deliberate. And worth the anticipation.
Because now, I watch your eyes drink me in and I look away as they start to see through the armor, over the walls, and into my soft insides. I’m not one to look away usually, but your eyes are piercing and I am left feeling unprotected and more than a little shaky.
Your knowing brown eyes, understanding of my need to self-protect, showing me with a gentle gaze that I do not need to protect myself here. Not now. Not with you. And all at once, the warmth in your eyes heats up and becomes more intent. They make me weak as I fall helplessly into them — and read the unspoken thoughts behind them.
I can feel you wanting to reach out and touch me, but you hold yourself back because you don’t want to scare me away, like a frightened kitten. Except that I am the one who’s been prowling, pacing, and already purring as I anxiously wait for your touch and the soft petting that I know is coming. A touch that I know won’t be soft for long. Not with your energy. Not with your passion.
I keep my hands wrapped around my coffee mug as a way to keep them busy, softly blowing on the steamy liquid as I bring it to my lips…smiling as you watch me intently, knowing that we’re both imagining the same delicious thoughts.
Your melodic voice interrupts my reverie even as I stare at you, only inches away from you now. Finally, in your physical presence, even though we’ve been inside each other all along. The space between us all at once nervous and vibrating while calm and knowing.
I rest my chin in my hand and ask you a question that you weren’t expecting. I watch an unexpected blush rise on your cheeks as you lower your eyes and curse under your breath. When you look back up at me, it is with determination and intent, and I feel my legs start to tremble.
Things like this don’t happen. And they certainly don’t happen across miles or over the phone or in a coffee shop.
But we know better.
We had that intimacy the first time we spoke. The moment you coaxed me out from under my protective layers. The moment you challenged me with your knowing voice and your calm reassurance and insistence that I was okay, that I had always been okay — because how could I not be?
In that exact moment, everything changed for me. I was reminded and seen and encouraged and allowed and cared for.
And whole.
And unbroken.
Just as I always was.
I reach across the table…slowly and deliberately.
And take your hands in mine.
And I ask you if you would like to go for a walk with me.
You whisper my name like a sigh escaping your lips and answer quietly, “Thank you, for finally asking.”