Today, at around 5 am, a David Bowie song was playing through the stereo and while I was trying to put my finger on which one it was, I was also dancing with him like the dorks that we were.
At that moment, it had been 5 hours since we kissed for the first time.
It had still not stopped pouring outside and that made me really glad because we got to stay inside (together) for longer.
He kissed me again, marking the fourth time we had kissed then and I couldn't help but ask,
"How many times have you thought of kissing me before?"
He chuckled to say,
"Do you really want to know?"
I nodded my head and placed it gently on his chest.
"Precisely 15 times in the past two months. But I'll narrow it down to 3. The ones where I thought I just had to run to you, hold you by your waist and kiss you like the sun was going to quit on us tomorrow."
We were still slow tapping to 'Heroes' by David Bowie and my eyes met his as he continued,
"The first time was Christmas at your best friend's. It was so easy to understand that nobody could have gifted me a mixtape that read 'This sounds like stars and flowers in your palms' as its title for Secret Santa other than you. But you were with David, the only David I have ever hated because he got to see you laugh and cry at the same time and hug you whenever he could and kiss you when nobody was around."
He started to look down and I raised his head to tell him,
"Well, nobody's around right now"
'Put your head on my shoulder' by Paul Anka started playing just then.
He gave me what looked like the softest smile I had ever seen and continued,
"The second was something that might feel insignificant to you. We were in the school cafeteria. You had just finished eating your blueberry muffin and questioning where the blueberry was in the muffin. The bell rang and it was time for French class. Almost everyone had left but you pulled out a book instead. When I asked if French didn't interest you, you looked at me and said 'Of course it does. The people just interest me more than the language' and pointed to the book which was about the French Revolution."
I laughed out loud to say,
"I can't believe this."
He proceeded to join his laughing lips to mine right after. When he pulled back, I asked,
"And what about the third one?"
"Oh, easy. You were dancing to this song and then you plucked your hair behind your ear in the space between the first song ending and the second one beginning. You were wearing this shirt that frankly looked just the right amount of loose on you. It had this flowery print that I’m pretty sure has been washed up and almost faded now. It is my favourite shirt, by the way. I bought it when I was seventee-"
I shut him up by what looked like our sixth kiss.
He squeaked his eyes, looked at me and said,
"Well, scratch the third one off the list."
We continued kissing and just when he stopped,
my alarm started ringing.
How tragic my morning didn't look like that, how very tragic I woke up to him being nothing but a dream.