maybes.

He was wide awake the second the bed creaked with her movement.
Had he dared....?
Think he did...she was there wasn't she...?He could hear her softly breathing through the covers,his own breath short and confused.
What an amazing night it was though.
What an absolutely amazing night.
They had turned off the lights so her body glistened in the moonlight.He had touched her as if she was a dream.Smooth,like cold marble.She had giggled,a bit tipsy.
God she was fucking gorgeous,he thought laying there.He hadn't seen her in years,and here she was now...walking towards him in the busy London street,her hair down till her waist,walking hippie-like...laid-back,natural,smiling.His friends stared back and forth,and he tried to look unaffected,beads of sweat building on his nape.
'I don't know how well you do with hugs',she had said,so she kissed him on the cheek.

'He's always been so smooth' she thought.'I'm so fucking nervous'.She was polite to him in front of all of his friends,people she thought she should behave in front of.Otherwise she would most likely demand a piggy-back ride.Or a hug.His voice had always been like a jazz melody to her,strong and creamy.Pulled-together.Not giving away anything.They had lunch that they forgot to pay attention to,so much talking was being done.He always talked more she thought.Which was fine,all she knew was to sit pretty and listen.She had shaved her legs in the morning and then lotioned every part of her body till her roommate walked in and said 'What's the occasion?'.She didn't know how to answer that one.Long ago friends meeting as grown-ups now?That would probably be the most appropriate way to describe it.Her roommate had raised an eyebrow.'I want to hear all the details when and if you get back',she said chuckling.

She shrugged,but felt a bit embarrassed.

Now she sat listening to his uncanny ability to roll politics,literature and the greater good of the world all into one.He didn't look any younger than 3-4 years ago.But he smelled like peppermint oil and rosewood.She quickly changed his clothes in her mind and all of a sudden he was carrying a cane, his leather gloves and top hat resting near his chamomile tea.Hair glossily slicked back,still smelling of exotic scents.1920's?T.S.Eliot?Maybe.

It was times like these when he wished he could tell what was on her mind.Her eyes were at him,but they were glassy and reflective.Her smile distracted.'Pumpkin-flavored eclair bongs,' he said, completely off-topic.'What the hell was that for?' she asked.'Ok,so you are paying attention.I thought otherwise'.

They had had their fair share of drinks,their fair share of unravelling the ropes that bound their existences.A Saturday well-spent.No one noticed who made the first move.She was singing in the dark because he asked her to,and it was easier that way.Then she sang their song,and they were both smiling in the dark.Hands started moving,and it was at that moment that she thought 'We really do take hands for granted.They're the beginning of everything.And sometimes the end too'.

She liked to sleep after sex,and this situation was too awkward to talk anyway.She was glad they had turned off the light.
He hoped this wasn't goodbye.He hoped his ego would step down and let this second person in.It was about time.