We lay in bed together, separate blankets fortressing our bodies. My head spinning circles like a ballerina.. a very, very clumsy, confident, ballerina.
I closed my eyes to try and battle the vertigo taking precedence of my outer body experience, when I felt your head lay against my shoulder.
My eyes rolled back into my head, unable to gather coherent thoughts. I enjoyed the physical response of alcohol and your touch, that much I knew at the moment.
The scent of your soft dark brown hair filled my lungs. As if smoking vanilla flavoured shisha; you were toxic to my health. Enjoyable, but poisonous, nonetheless.
I was occupied for the moment, trying to steady my breath and calm my nerves. It’s always so weird, in its most innocent form, when sleeping with someone for the first time.
“You’re really genuine, do you know that?”
My initial response – a rough and deep chuckle erupted from the back of my throat and whisked its way through parted lips, “thanks, I try.”
“And that’s why I can’t.”
Air filled my chest, now escaping through the same pathway of previous laughter, a more serious tone filling the void between our now pressed together bodies, “please don’t say that stupid word.”
I chortled loudly, releasing out whatever drunk energy I had left, you were such a smartass… it’s why I liked being around you.
“I’m kidding. But I need you to hear my explanation, so you don’t think it’s you.”
I stayed quiet, awaiting the verdict.
“You are kind, and I, right now, am not. I do not want to ruin that about you. I want to believe there’s still kindness, and I don’t want to hurt you in ways others have. So, I can’t. But — I like being around you, and I want to be like this, as we are now — friends who can laugh, and drink, and go out, and watch Netflix, and have fun.”
My mind chewed on her voiced drunken thoughts. Savouring the good intentions, tasting the honesty, musing over the food for thought– so that’s what it feels like to get friend-zoned huh? “I’m really good at being friends, it’s one of the best things I know how to do.”
I felt her arm slide under my grandmother’s blanket, resting against my stomach, one of her legs casually sprawled over both of mine. My arm wrapped around her, her head settled between my shoulder and arm, while I settled for her company. “You really do deserve so much, you’re pretty damn great.”
I leaned my lips against her soft hair, and smirked, hushing away idealistic values and consciousness, “Yeah yeah, don’t we all?” And with that, I fell into a drunken stupour of dreams about a girl halfway around the world that I could never manage to be just friends with, someone I thought I deserved, too.