THE CONFESSION....

When the words first rolled out of his mouth, I wasn’t fully listening. I was busy studying his face: his short dark brown hair hidden beneath an Ohio State fitted hat, the three creases in his forehead that became more prominent as he raised his eyes to look at me through those thick, dark lashes, and the stubble on his face that had probably gone three days since the last shave...

He pressed his lips together as he searched for words. As I tuned into his voice - a sound I’d come to find familiar and comforting - I heard words I wasn’t expecting.

Sure, he had just texted my phone from our apartment upstairs, above the bar that I was currently working at, telling me there was a girl in his bed who was trying to take advantage of him, and that he only wanted me, but now here he was, sitting at my bar, admitting to having caught feelings for me. For me! His roommate! His friend’s ex-girlfriend!

It was a sticky situation, for sure, but he just looked so damn cute sitting there.

He was still rambling but all I could think about was my sudden desire to crawl across the top of the bar, take his face in my hands, and stop the now superfluous words spilling from his lips. I’d heard all I needed, and was having trouble wiping the silly grin off my face.

After he’d said his piece, he hung his head with slight resignation. I snapped back to reality for the moment and reached across the bar for his hand. He was apologizing.

“Hey - no - listen,” I interrupted, “believe me, it’s mutual...I promise”.

Sheesh. Was I really confessing this right now? He’s wasted, maybe blacked out. I’m pretty sure he won’t remember this tomorrow.

But it felt good to say it. I’d wanted to say it twice before. The first time was a week ago — and I was surprised I’d resisted. It was hard to control myself around him, but I was proud of my head for drowning out my heart in that instance - if my heart was even involved in this. Our relationship up to this point was seductive and lustful when we were drunk. When sober, we were perfect roommates. We got along swimmingly. There were no squabbles or disputes. We shared chores around the apartment, we ate together, watched TV together, and blazed together at the end of the night. Our usual hang-out time was between midnight and 4am, give or take an hour maybe, while the rest of the city slept. He’s easy to talk to, and I get his humor. Not only do I get it but he keeps me on my toes and laughing. I’ve started to feed him the same constant joking.

Our physical relationship began around the beginning of January, after a Ravens football game we both attended.

We were both drunk, of course, and that first kiss was admittedly short and sweet, but it was memorable.

It was reckless.

It was public, though no one saw - and if they did, they were probably too drunk to notice.

Importantly, it was the beginning of a series of encounters that have brought us to this point.

A few days after the football game, we found ourselves in the back of his bar alone, and the makeout-sesh was born. A few days more, and we had rearranged the furniture in our living room so that we had a spot to cuddle.

It may have been then that I started getting hooked. His hands so patiently caressed my body: up and down my back, to my arms, ribs, hips...Every time he’d run his silky fingertips down the right side of my stomach, I’d get a shiver of a chill that traveled up my ribs and fell lower in my stomach than I expected. Then, with a hand resting on my hip, he’d lean forward and ever-so-lightly kiss my neck.

God, he turns me on.

Just the combination of everything he does drives me crazy!

It was one of those nights that he slid his hand down the front of my shorts and teased the shit out of me. I was already soaking wet when he decided to slide down to the end of the couch and finish me off with his tongue. As surprised as I was, it felt so good - amazing. I had to catch my breath. It might have been the taboo situation, maybe just that all my senses were so heightened, but God I feel so lucky...