v u l v a l i c i o u s
we only regret what we didn't do
It might mean something, maybe. The way you talked about wanting to make out with someone all night. How you mentioned, casually, that it'd been a while.
And how we were walking back to your house when you said that you would make out with the people you know. The people you already hang out with. They're attractive. Maybe you were including me.
It felt like we were dancing next to it all night. So when we were sitting in the car and I didn't want you to go, I reached out and put my hand at the back of your neck. Petting your hair, thinking about tugging on it. You didn't move away, but you stilled. Made a small sound of approval. Said something about staying in the car.
And I didn't say, "what if I kissed you right now?" But I realize I should have. I should have stopped petting for a moment, hand resting in your hair, and asked the question. Moved only my thumb in small circles until you said yes, because I realize now you probably would have. Leaned over and wished that the front seat didn't have so many obstacles between the driver and the passenger as I tried to unbuckle my seatbelt with my left hand while keeping the right at your back.
I'm not great at everything, but I'm a damn fine kisser.
Instead I said, "I think I can't stop petting you until you get out," and you said you'd count to three, did it, and stayed. I smiled and stopped and let you leave.
Said goodnight. Cursed myself as I drove away. I'm an idiot, but my heart's in the right place. I care about you. I like the way you look at me and how sweet we are with one another. So tender. I don't want that to change. I'm afraid it'll sour.
You're leaving soon, though, so it may not matter after all. And I should have asked if I could kiss you.