idealistic lesbian fairytale

a tender moment between two girls, from the perspective of me, as the narrator. lul

         

              “Look at you, you’re stunning.”

              I reach out and tuck a tendril of her hair behind her ear. The diffused beams of sunlight coming in through the linen curtains make her look ethereal; glowing. Her eyes seem to sparkle in response, and she gives me a half-hearted smile.

              “I could say the same about you.”

              My heart flutters in my chest. I’ve known her for years, but every week I discover something new about her. I constantly notice small details that just deepen the love I have for her, like the cadence of her voice, or the way she uses her hands while we kiss. She leaves no part of me untouched.

              As I look at her now, she’s not wearing anything spectacular, but it’s not the clothes that leave me in awe, it’s the way she wears them and it’s the body beneath them. She has scars from her years of sport, falling on rocks while hiking every so often. She has stretch marks on thighs that could crush a watermelon, light and varied freckles on every part of her body. She wears these perceived “flaws” with grace. I can’t help but love them.

              We’re sitting on the couch in a quiet, mostly empty living room. It’s dusk, and as I sip my tea, I feel a hand on my thigh. When I look up, she smirks at me.

              I can feel my face getting warm, and I feel like I’m making myself look like a fool when suddenly she laughs and reaches that same hand up to trace my jaw. She ends in a caress, her hand on my cheek, softly stroking my face with her thumb.

              “No, really. How did I ever get so lucky?” she whispers in a lower tone. I find it difficult not to lean in closer to her, so I give in to gravity and lean forward until our faces are mere inches apart. I see honey-gold brown eyes staring right back at me and a full smile that forms in the creases of her eyes.

              I stop and realize I’ve been holding my breath this entire time. Quite literally, as if this all hasn’t been enough of a cliché, she took my breath away. There’s a tension in the air, but it’s the kind of tension that keeps you on your toes in the wake of idyllic romance. Lustful in a loving way. Lust, love, and longing go hand in hand. I can’t help it; all I can think about is kissing her.

              But before I can, she does first. Her thumb glides down my bottom lip, and her gaze shifts to my mouth. I tilt my head back slightly and I can feel shivers run down my spine; this is the way she loves. She loves with her hands, her eyes, and her entire being. It’s a dance. I waltz clumsily in comparison.
And she wastes no more time; her lips press against mine as she glides them behind the nape of my neck and over my shoulders, down my arm. I let out a soft sigh and melt into her hands.

              In this moment, we are taken aback by one another; two humans in perfect harmony, two humans whose paths collided some time ago and vowed to never separate. Oh, how lovely it is to exist at the same time as her. This moment is etched into my brain as a reminder of the tender affairs in life; if you wait for them, they will come to you.

              We slowly pull back from the kiss, my mouth slightly agape. The corners of my lips lift into a wide smile and her face mirrors mine.

              “It’s impossible to say, but I think we both just got lucky,” I say as I lean forward once more to pepper her jawline and neck with kisses and trail downwards. She closes her eyes and sinks back into the couch. I end with a kiss on her collarbone and rest my head on her chest, wrapping my arms around her as we lay together, feeling still and comfortable in the silence. The silence is bliss. Not one second passes that I don’t savor moments like these.

              I fall asleep thinking of her.