It was a few days later
that I told him about the library.
I told him how I went there every day
for an hour or so after school,
And volunteered Mondays and Fridays
(although I gradually stopped volunteering as the year went on).
We started making plans to go
To the library
To hang out.
The first week that he asked his parents,
They said no.
The second week,
He simply couldn’t make it.
We were going to the library together.
He almost wasn’t able to go even then.
Neither of us knew that he was supposed to have a bus pass,
And the bus driver shook her head at first.
Then, she agreed to ask one of the administrators.
The administrator shook her head at first, too,
But once it was made clear where we were going
And that Francis had parent permission,
He was finally cleared to ride the bus,
After making a promise to
“Have a pass next time!”
Sitting on the bus with him
Was an oddly sweet experience.
I’d always daydreamed about sitting on a bus
With the boy I loved(even I ever really knew who that was).
My head would be resting on his shoulder,
My cold fingers entwined with his warm ones.
I wasn’t able to lay my head on Francis’s shoulder,
But that was okay,
Because the feel of his hand in mine
And the radiance of his smile
Was more than enough to satisfy my dreaming.
We only got one short warning about PDA from the bus driver,
And that was just because I did end up on his shoulder at one point.
We finally reached the bus stop
that was down the road from the library.
Walking up the road with him
Was another fulfilled dream, warm and perfect.
We reached the library,
And were a bit confused as to where we should go.
I eventually led him over to a chair in the YA section.
I sat, and he decided to stand behind me, arms draped around my neck.
That was a bit awkward.
After a lot of shuffling around and some small talk,
I finally decided to move somewhere else.
We ended up in the back of the library,
Behind the non-fiction shelves.
His eyebrows shot up.
“Whoah, where are you taking me?” he teased, blushing slightly.
I felt my own cheeks redden.
“It’s...quieter back here.”
We dropped our bags,
And after standing awkwardly for a couple of seconds,
Sat down side-by-side, next to the bags.
“This was a good idea.” Francis says after a couple of silent seconds.
I smile at him. “Yeah.”
We look at each other -
We don’t just look at each other.
We look into each other.
Around us, the rest of the world fades into dull white noise,
There is nothing but
Slowly, so slowly,
The distance between us closes-
Until the corner of my lip is barely brushing the tip of his mouth.
We both pull away, flushed with embarassment.
“Um,” Francis mumbles.
He turns so that he’s facing me more,
And I turn with him.
The distance is closed without a hitch,
And then his lips are soft and warm on mine.
It’s my first kiss in nearly two years,
And I’d forgotten how nice a kiss really could be-
And this was definitely better than any kiss I’d ever had before,
Not that I’d had very many.
All the kisses of my past, each from the same person,
Were cautious, uncertain, not quite true.
This kiss was doubtless, sweet, and curious.
After several seconds, we pulled back,
Cheeks flushed and eyes wide and hearts about to explode.
We kissed several more times in the hour and thirty minutes that followed,
Soft, cautious kisses that gradually morphed
Into hungry, wet kisses of slipped tongue.
The best part was
That I knew
And he knew
That underlying the hunger
Was the sweetness of love.