Images keep dancing in my head, ideas and fantasies of how we meet again. A group of old friends, gathered to talk and laugh again after so long apart. I enter the room and spot them there, your back is toward me, but I’d know you anywhere. My mouth is suddenly dry and my hands are trembling. When I try and take a breath to steady my racing heart, it too is shaking with excitement.
I stand and look at all of them and you. Seeing that the years have changed a lot, but seeing those same years peel away as you laugh together and remember. Time stands still for me; there is no yesterday or the hundreds of yesterdays since I saw you. There is this moment and it is as if we have always been destined for this.
I walk slowly toward the table, some of them see me and meet my eyes and smile. You still do not turn. I smile in return, but all I can really think of is you. I’ve never once touched you I think, maybe a passing touch to your arm, but I’ve never touched you yet you are so familiar to me that I can picture tiny details of you by closing my eyes and remembering. I walk softly to behind your chair and never pause to consider my welcome from you. My hands touch your shoulders and you startle slightly. Before you can turn I slide my arms around your neck and press my face to yours, brushing your cheek lightly with my lips. You pull slightly away and turn toward me then. Recognition flashes in your eyes and a slow smile shapes your lips. I realize the others are staring and I care little for my part but think maybe you do, so I move away with a little “Well hey there!” Like I wasn’t expecting you to be there at all.
I drag a chair between you and our old friend sitting to your left and slide in next to you. Letting our shoulders touch intimately. I wonder if you will move away. You don’t. I greet and talk to all our old friends. Drinks are ordered and when mine arrives I exaggerate my lean away from the table as it is placed. I press myself against you, remembering how many times I’ve wondered what your body against mine would feel like. I don’t look at you, but do this and pretend I don’t notice how close our contact is. I talk and laugh with everyone and hear little of what they say and have no idea of what I say to them. I drink and wonder why no one comments on how badly I’m shaking. Being this close to you is making me lose control of everything I believe in. I wonder if I am having a similar or any kind of effect on you. I can no longer resist looking directly at you.
The next round of drinks arrive and I propose a toast to our old days together. We all chant our words and clink our glasses together, I deliberately leave you for last. I turn toward you, and raise my glass. Our eyes meet and I fall into their depths. Shock and something much nicer courses through me at what I see there in your eyes. I see my own emotions reflected there. How could we have let so much time separate us? I become aware that we are sitting, glasses touching and staring at one another and the others at the table have noticed. It makes them curious and a little uncomfortable. I laugh a little, having lost the ability to speak, and turn back to restart the table conversation. I now see speculation in their eyes. I don’t think I care.
The evening of reminiscing goes on until the early hours of morning. I finally say I’ve had a great time, but I need to sleep. Everyone stands and we hug one another, exchange emails and phone numbers, promise to do this again soon. I turn to you last and put my hand on your arm. I tell the others that I need to steal you for a minute and slide my hand into yours and give a little tug. We walk a few feet away from the others so they cannot hear us, but can see us. Again, I don’t think I care. I don’t let go of your hand, instead I face you and take your other hand in mine, stepping close to you. You look intrigued and unsure, and glance back at the table of our friends who are trying to look as if they are not watching us. You mention this to me, the fact that I have made everyone speculate about our relationship. I ask you if we have a relationship. You do not answer but instead squeeze my hands lightly. I rise to my toes and lightly kiss your lips and it takes my breath away. I step back and look at you again, considering what I’m thinking of doing.
I pull something from my pocket; my key; and put it in your hand and whisper the room number to you while looking in your eyes. I wait, giving you the chance to hand it back. You don’t.