note: this following entry has a lot of pent up sexual angst in it. do not read if you dont' want to hear me talk about not having sex or something like that heh.

it was simple. we'd have a party. it would be fun. it would be the party of the year. his friends, my friends, us. us as in greg and i and them, our friends. there are always two possible situations that could occur: a perfect merge or a volitile explosion of two opposite groups of people.

i know you, my reader, are on the edge of your seat. your anticipation is probably killing you right? you're dying to know. so i'll stop holding you off with a stick and give it to you:

the only thing that was volitile and the only thing that exploded was us, at about 12 am after everyone had left. we exploded from our bellys and splattered our good two weeks of pent up agression onto the walls of his bedroom. we had learned so much about each other. so much that it came to a point that we had to fight. it was the kind of fight you have at about the three month mark. the kind where you say "hey i don't want to lose this person but i'm so fucking angry at nothing i need to yell!"

it's the kind of fight that afterwards most people wind up having sweaty, wild, make-up sex. but you only have that kind of sex when you're already had the "first sex in the relationship" sex or the normal once to three times a day sex and we had yet to partake in those.

so what do you do when there is no sex to be had and there is no love to be made? you make out like a couple of teenagers. you claw at bodies, nibble on necks and suck on lips. that's what you do when there is no nookie to be had and you do it until you can't breathe or [of course] you get way too close to tearing off your clothes.

it's so easy to forget the joy of just kissing. it's so easy to stop kissing for the sake of kissing. but i found it again and i enjoy having no other motive except to get just one more kiss.

"why can't i get .. just one kiss?"

when i was a kid i would spin, spin, spin on the dewey summer grass until i fell down giggling and i would watch the blue sky spin above my head. sam would alway sit on my little yellow plastic bird swing and watch me. i was always the instigator. i would grab his hand and pull him across the street into the woods where we would hide. i was the one who forced him to steal marshmellows from my pantry. i was the bad girl and i was only 5.

i don't spin much anymore. i used to spin in my chair while waiting for jack to respond to a message. i used to spin in my chair while waiting for something exciting to happen. lately nothing exciting was happening. lately .. nothing was worth spinning over.

tonight greg was so happy to see me when he got home that he spun me around. circles turned into circles .. and more circles. my stomach felt weak and i pounded on his back, giggling, hoping he would put me down. eventually he did and we pulled away from each other. my face was flushed, the whole apartment smelled like olive oil.

"i like coming home to you," he gushed, pushing his driving glasses on top of his head and dropping his breifcase to the ground.

"i made pasta for din-"

he cut me off and kissed me. it wasn't a gentle kiss but a firm: "look at me i adore you" kind of kiss and it curled my toes, made butterflies in my stomach and melted my cold body into butter. he wouldn't let go of me until i had kissed him back.

"do you ever get sick of just kissing me?" i asked him later on that night.

"if you mean do i ever get bored of it? no. but if you mean, do i sometimes want more? yes."

"what do you mean by more? like fucking?" the words were harsh against my lips but he didn't flinch or react to them.

"no. i mean i want to be able to.." his voice trailed off and he moved closer to me on the couch, "do this."

his hand went under my sweater then my shirt and fell against my bare skin. his hand traveled up my side while his other hand wrapped around my waist, gripping onto my hip. his fingers danced under my clothing, tickling, touching, rubbing. in those few seconds his lips were also on my earlobe, down my neck and it all happened so fast and it all felt so hot.

"but that all leads to sex," i sighed, pushing him away.

"yes one day it will. but you don't want it to right now so i'm respecting that. but yes.. i do sometimes want more then your lips."

my head was screaming "so do i! so do i!" but the words wouldn't escape from my lips. his fingers made me feel like i was spinning again in the dewey grass in my backyard. they were too familiar, too giving and too sensual.

-too perfect-

i've ben reading a lot of books lately. they're books that i've read before and i picked up a copy of the hottest state by ethan hawke. when i first read the book i thought.. "yeah ok ethan hawke. this is going to be a picture book." i mean his name was almost bigger then the title. but it was a good book.

greg had read it too and when he saw me place it on the counter last night he smiled.

"you're the girl in that book," he pointed as i smiled at the short, thin haired, girl behind the counter.

"i am?" i didn't remember much about the girl in the book except the description of her in a green dress.

"emotionally you are. trying to keep me at this distance. refusing to let yourself just fall into my arms. you plan it out so perfectly so that it sounds and looks like a perfect play instead of us just being together," the smile on his face belied the truth and pain in his words.

"i do that. i know."

"yeah. you do. but i forgive you."

we rode home in silence. the words that we didn't say mingled in our heads and in each breath we took. the air was cold. spring wasn't anywhere near being here. at a stop light he reached over and rubbed my cheek. i held my book close to my chest and held his hand there.

i smiled for the camera. i smiled for him. i wondered when i would start smiling, for myself.

i woke up and everything was white. white walls, white blankets, white skin, white flowers. everything was white. i turned and saw he was still asleep. his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open. i slid out of his bed quietly and tip toed to the bathroom that was also, white.

it was the kind of bathroom that reminded me of home and i stood there staring at myself in the mirror. my eyes were tired but i smiled at my reflection anyway. it had been months since i had actually done that, smile at my reflection.

i washed the sleep out of my eyes and crawled back into bed. i waited for him to wake up and just as i had given up on his tired face, his blue eyes opened.

"you're really here," a sleepy smile spread across his face.

"yes, i'm really here," i whispered, reaching for the remote to turn the news on.

"i thought i was dreaming," he laughed.

"no..no..you're not."

i slid back underneath the white down comforter and pressed my face against his chest. he smelled like fresh sheet smell and i supressed a giddy giggle. my naked legs wrapped up with his and his fingers traced lightly over my shoulders.

for hours we just layed there..smiling, touching, kissing, holding, laughing, poking... being.

it's the most amazing thing ever. to just be with someone. there was no me pulling down my shirt to hide my pale stomach or adjusting my skirt to hide my thighs. they were all there and he enjoyed them.

there are times when i wish someone was documenting my life. just so if i wake up one day to find out this was all some great dream or cruel joke.. i'd still have the memories of the good times, you know the times that smell like flowers and feel like touching a warm puppy.

like.. right... now.