I Liked That...

The complication and excitement of when your mind and body are saying two different things.

I Liked That...

One.

Two.

Each shot of burning liquor slides down my throat and coats it in fire, resting heavy in my stomach. I feel okay but then again I can’t tell if that’s what I really think or if I'm just starting to believe what the cute boy pouring my shots is telling me. I never noticed him before. His brown eyes stare into my blue eyes and I can’t help but smile. I look away, feeling nervous and more insecure. I look back only to see that he had never looked away. His face is soft and his smile makes him seem approachable.

Three.

Four.

Five.

By now the fire has faded and somehow managed to turn itself into courage. Somewhere in-between the sip of Fireball and swig of vodka I found myself leaning against that cute boy. My head fits perfectly under his arm and his arm feels perfect wrapped around me. He pours another but I just stare at it and feel myself slowly sliding backwards. His arm holds me tight. I like that. I feel like he wants me.

I guess the loss of motor skills was enough of a cue to tell the other boys it was time to leave the cute boy and drunk girl alone. I wonder if that’s all I am to them? Another drunk girl crushing on the cute boy in their basement.

Six.

I drank the last shot in the bottle and found myself slowly falling in love with the newly carpeted basement floor. I guess that was the cue to move to the couch. As I lay on my side the cute boy who was once reassuring me of how “good” I was, was now reassuring me of how good I looked. His compliments felt good. They felt better than any Grey Goose or Parrot Bay. His hand on my hip felt better than any Jack Daniels. I would have taken that kiss on the neck over a bottle of Ciroc, any day. I manage to turn my body over and before I know it his lips found mine. He’s soft, gentle. He tasted like oranges. While yes, i enjoyed the taste, I was curious as to when he managed to put on citrus flavored chapstick without me noticing. I didn't mind though, I liked it. I felt as if he thought he needed to impress me.

His arms grab me and pull my body on top of his. One leg on each side I found myself feeling good. Feeling like I belonged here. His hands slid up and down my back, down my legs and back up again. He made sure to take his time. I liked that. I felt like I was good enough to be enjoyed. My right hand found its way to the meeting point of his neck and his shoulder and the other did the same. With each and every kiss our bodies moved. Our hips found a rhythm with each other and they stayed in sync. Our lips were feeling curious and decided to explore new places. Mine softly left a trail down to his neck. I can feel his body tense up as he pulls me closer, holds me tighter. I like that. I feel like he doesn't want to lose me.

My kisses retrace their previously painted trail back up to his lips and he switches our positions. Before my delayed mind can even realize what he’s doing I find myself lying between soft brown couch cushions and the cute boy who may or may not be as intoxicated as I am. His hand holds on to my hair and i can’t help but break the kiss and inhale. Our bodies found a new rhythm. This one a bit more intense, more driven. My hands hold onto the clothing on his back and my legs hold onto his hips. Our breathing gets heavier.

He bites my lip.

Heavier.

I bite his back.

Heavier.

His hands slide lower.

Heavier.

I can tell what he wants, his intentions are clear. My body agrees with his but my mind is elsewhere. Our hands and lips want new places to venture to. Our bodies want a new rhythm to sync to. Our liquid courage wants to be put to the use. Who am I to waste it away? I like the way he makes me feel. Either it’s him or the feeling of being six shots deep in my own self. Whichever it was I didn’t want to say no. It felt good. He felt good.

I wrap my arms around his neck and hold onto his body when I notice I’m just not ready.

Wait.

He grabs my butt.

Wait.

He kisses me harder.

Wait.

His hand side forward.

Well, maybe I am okay with this. Maybe I should just try new things. I like this. I feel like he really, truly wants me. Maybe I am ready. Then again, what if I'm not?

Stop.

He kisses my neck.

He feels so good, why is this so wrong? I pull him closer. Maybe I’m ready. Then again, I’m not so sure.

Hold on.

His hands softly pull my hair again because he knows it’s my weakness. He hears my heavy breathing and bites my lip.

Maybe I am ready.