In my head, she stumbles over to him, grabbing him by the arm as she looks up dotingly. Using every aching muscle, she reaches within that California blonde head to find the only sobriety left. “What did you think of this weekend?”
“I loved it. Every second. I’ve been wined and dined by the state of California.” He struggled for a second, hesitating in his answer to find his best words, wanting to say what was in his heart, but afraid of the potential complications. ” And to be honest, I don’t think I’m prepared to go back to the Dakotas.”
“Well I’m glad you had a good time. I’m sorry it’s going to be hard to go home, but I suppose that means you had a good time here?”
“I did, yeah. I really did fall in love with the place. I just wish I had more time…ya know? I just want more time around here, with everyone,” He paused, “and with you.”
“Wait…what?” Her thoughts scattered away from those sudden last three words. The surprising closing remark had been like a reenactment from a vague dream she had months ago. In her already spinning head, these suppressed wants and desires from so long ago were suddenly starting to mix with the distorted reality before her.
“I guess, I don’t know how to really say this without sounding like a sad romantic, but if I’m being honest, there’s been an image in my mind of you ever since the day you left. An image of you and me, and while I suppose I came all this way to see Braxton, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come to see you too.”
He grabbed her hand.
“And maybe as far-fetched as it sounds, I feel like there’s something here, between us. Something that’s worth exploring, even if we have all the odds against us.
And I know you’re drunk. I’m a little drunk too, but if there’s one thing I hope you can still remember from tonight, it’s everything I’ve told you…And this.”
He reached his head towards her, clasping her hand tighter simultaneously with his kiss, and she reached for him. She met his lips with a drunken abandon only possible by the young, foolish, and innocent. For a brief moment, he forgot entirely of the people in the room, and his reality only consisted of the edge of that sofa, and the high-cheeked white-teethed girl in front of him. He pulled back, putting his forehead to hers, and kissed her on the cheek.
She was lost in his overwhelming sincerity. He had obviously thought over this with careful consideration; she came to the conclusion that this wasn’t a “spur of the moment” moment. This was him, putting himself out there, knowingly and accordingly. All she could do, all she could think of in that wonderfully symmetric head, was put it on his shoulder, and not say a word.