#12.28.2016

[...] I guess, I drank a little more than I normally would that night (most likely, because you kept forcing drinks into my hand and punishing me when I lost the game we were playing since it was my birthday). Maybe, it was the alcohol that gave me a little courage. 

But somewhere between this drink and that drink, I decided I wanted to lay my head down on your lap as we all sat in a circle on the floor, talking about this things and those things. You didn’t try to move me. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t look down or say anything either, but you did begin to mess with my hair a little. And as I lay there, I decided that I wanted to hold your hand. Ever so slowly, my hand crept into the blanket and searched for yours. Soon enough, I found it and loosely held it. 

. . .

I looked up. . .

. . .

. . . anticipating a reaction. 

. . .