We had been hanging out with each other on a regular basis for a few months when I invited Akira over to my apartment. She arrived twenty minutes late, and I had begun to think I’d read the signals wrong. Turns out, that’s just how she was. Always running twenty minutes behind. Years later I would tell her appointments were thirty minutes earlier so she would always be on time.
We had pizza and beer, and a movie from Blockbuster that her roommate had recommended. Akira took a seat on an end cushion of my couch, and I took the other. A lonely red cushion stood between us. Even from there, my body was tuned to hers. My body wanted hers. A held hand, a kiss on the cheek. Anything to fill that space between.
We finished our pizza. She paused the movie while I tossed paper plates in the trash and grabbed two more beers. I took my seat and could see she had moved. She had crossed onto that center cushion. She smiled at me, but didn’t say a word. She just pressed Play.
She tucked her long legs under her. Her upper body leaned towards mine. I shifted and our shoulders met. She was leaning into me now and I could hardly breath. Gradually she moved so she was under my arm and my hand rested on her opposite shoulder. Her body had filled the space and answers my questions.
By the time the credits rolled, we were relaxed into each other as if her body fit the puzzle that was my own. My fingers danced on her shoulder, a steady rhythm of electricity between my fingertips and the fabric of her shirt.
As the credits rolled, I filled the last of the space between and put my lips to hers.