I found myself at her balcony once again, gazing at the stars whilst I smoke the third cigarette of the day. I have been smoking considerably less since I got here. It must have something to do with how much time we spend together in her room, but I don’t even have any urges to smoke anymore. Funny. Looks like she soothed something inside of me, the weird winged creature that feeds on both the smoke of my Marlboro Reds and my sorrows.
She comes up behind me holding a beer, her eyes golden and her lips pink. “What a lucky man I am,” I think to myself. Man, you should see her. Everything about her is beautiful beyond compare. Which is something quite vague to say, I reckon, but it trully is beyond compare, so there is nothing I can compare her too. You will have to use you imagination.
“Want some?” she asks.
“Nah, I’m cool. You know I’m not a fan of beer.”
“Ha, true. Can I get a cigarette?”
“You shouldn’t. But what the hell, you do whatever you want. It’s your house, anyway.”
She giggles and proceeds to lighting up a cigarette. Something about having this beautiful girl dragging in smoke by my side feels quite special. Feels as if it shouldn’t feel so good, but it does anyway. As she expels the smoke out of her lungs, also gazing at the stars, she says:
“Who the hell came up with the constellations? I mean, come on. How could someone possibly see a fucking crab on Cancer?”
“Good question,” I laugh. “Maybe they were tripping balls. Gemini, where are the twins of Gemini? Whoever shows me can keep me as a slave.”
And with incredible sync, we both go “Ursa Major!”, and laugh some more.
My cigarette has been gone for a while, hers is not even halfway through. So I light up another one. I feel thirsty, so I grab a sip of her beer, to a playful I’m watching you, bro look coming from her golden eyes. Man, I really don’t like beer. But it does ease the thirst a little bit.
And whilst she’s gazing at the stars, finishing up her cigarette, I catch myself gazing at her face once again. I have been gazing at her face for the past three days. I’m going back home in two days, so I want to make sure I don’t forget anything about how her face works. How her cheeks move when she smiles and how her eyes go small at the same time and how, when she squints out of disbelief, her face does this weird little thing that I wish I could see every single day of my life.
“I love you,” I say out loud, almost by accident.
She was lost on her thoughts, still gazing at the stars, so she takes a second and a half to look at me and answer with “I love you too,” as if those words weren’t the most powerful set of words that could possibly come out of her mouth at any given time in history.
I go up to her, holding her hand. I can’t help but run my free hand through her hair, her cheeks, her lips, nose, neck, shoulders… I can’t afford to let the opportunity of mapping her inside my head pass. And she gets closer to me as I get closer to her and, when least expected, we are kissing. And boy, let me tell you, she knows what she is doing. Her kiss sends signals through my body that feel less like electric shocks and more like cosmic radiation blasting through my heart at breakneck speed. Her tongue knows all the right places and her lips match mine like Lego and her arms wrap themselves around me like they need me to be inside them for as long as the moon is up there in the sky, and them some.
And when we finally come apart, I have her face on my hands and I don’t want to let her go because I always feel that if I let her go immediatly after a kiss I will lose her on the volatile nature of it and that is something I definitely can’t afford, by any means.
“You are beautiful,” I say. “Have I ever said that?”
“Not enough,” she laughs. “Say it again.”
“You are beautiful. You are ravishing. Add all the other synonyms.”
“Thank you very much,” she laughs again. “Let’s go back to my room? Bob’s Burgers ain’t gonna watch itself.”
“Ok, let’s go then. But let’s order a pizza first, I’m starving.”
“Good call. You want me to order it?”
“Nah, I’ll do it. Chesse for you, right?”
“Ha. You remember.”
“Of course I do. Now let’s go, I really am starving to death here,” I say as I fake a theatrical faint.
She laughs again, and we go downstairs. Half an hour later the doorbell rings. We eat our pizza through and through, but between many kisses and touches, Bob’s Burgers never really got to be watched on that cold evening of July.