David touched the phone’s screen, his breathing stilted with
expectant nerves, opening the view to see that the message had arrived.
Finally, after such a long time, he could smile. He pressed the text icon and
watched as the screen changed to a familiar view. He scrolled up, for a few
seconds, with many messages and memories sliding in front of his eyes. Finally,
he stopped scrolling, as he reached the first message.
He started to read. Speed reading. Glancing through, missing
out the usual formalities of conversation, until he reached a certain point in
time. The first kiss. His eyes softened, the smile increasing, as his emotions
tried to grasp the situation with a pure heart, an understanding heart. That
first kiss where you show that you’re interested, that you want more, feel more
and need that something extra from a person. The wondrous adventure of all the
moments to follow.
He recalled their first kiss, stolen, a quick glancing
affair taken whilst he was feeling that extra bit brave. He had all the confidence
in the world, with any woman, until he met someone that he actually really,
really liked. Maybe he’d watched far too many black and white movies, as a
child, or maybe it was the dignity and nobility trying to enforce that he
respected her in all the ways that he should. The long-lost values that meant
little, in the fast and free moments of their present world.
Either way, no matter his thoughts, he’d distracted her and
upon her eyes meeting his again, he took that moment to grab his kiss. A quick,
single, simple gesture to ensure their nerves stayed calm and the conversation
relaxed. It had worked. The success of a brave foot forward or, should he say,
placing his lips upon hers. He returned to viewing the messages as his emotions
rose. Special. Something to remember.
He scrolled a little more, the quick messages between them
flowing with such ease. He reached the obvious place where the relationship
turned from friendly gestures, to the intimacy shared between the two. She turned
him on, with nearly every single word from her lips. She wasn’t one to hold
back and, finally, neither did he. He’d waited the longest time to find someone
that he could feel comfortable with, to be able to express himself the way he’d
wanted, with happiness finally being embraced. He felt free, unconstrained, as
she listened to whatever his imagination wanted to think. He’d whisper to her,
whenever he could, words of devotion, love, debauchery and more. She seemed to
adore his naughty mind, the nature of being able to say the words needed, to
drive the both of them insane with physical need. It was the electric to his
fire.
Then, he recalled the moment they’d said the three words
that meant so much. He feared the words, held them close to his heart, despite
wanting the world to know. The vulnerability they signified, warning him,
embracing him, opening his arms to allow another person into his life and
emotion. She said the words first, as he read them on the screen, with him
quickly rushing to her side, to say them in person. He just wanted to see her
eyes glow, her smile escape, with her arms holding him close as he felt even
more freedom. The trust, often given, seldom actually earned, being created
between them.
He was so happy. They were both happy whilst walking hand in
hand. The world faded; the moments bonding the both of them, to a new place. He
continued to scroll, realising that it really was working for her, the love
that she had.
Content with the messages, he reached the bottom of the texts
and started to type his reply. He simply needed to know, wished to have an
answer and, despite the moments being as they were, he didn’t want to push or
hamper where she currently resided. He pressed send, next to his typed message,
as he re-read the content, ‘Thanks Brian. I just needed to know, and I hope
that it works out for the both of them. It hurts but sometimes, knowing that
your ex is happy with someone else, is all that matters’.
He pressed the lock button on the side of his phone,
standing and turning towards the door, as he slowly walked from the room. He
knew that history repeated itself, that people said the same things, to each
other, over and over again, yet he preferred closure, an ending, a realisation
that everyone was a free spirit. He was now free, eager to move forward, after
reading a few simple, little, private texts.
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