#9 Your Last Kiss

October 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

It was at a friend’s party.

You introduced yourself and you looked as cute as a puppy, with dimples and thick black hair. We talked about swimming, France, food and Singapore culture. We started debating with your douchy European friend and he can’t stand my quick-tongue. You kept laughing and said you’ve never met a girl as witty as me with your animated hand gestures; even more so when you couldn’t find the English word to describe something you’re trying to say.

When I asked you how does a dolphin swim you just took off your shirt and jumped in the pool.

I haven’t laughed so hard in a while.

When the Parisian music came blasting through the stereo you just took me by my hand and started swirling me around.

I was enthralled by your looks and your spontaneity.

You asked me if I’d like to follow you to the 7-11 nearby and I said yes. It was 500 metres away and you were walking barefoot next to me. I can’t help but to laugh again. We got packs of cigarettes and beer and we started walking back.

Next thing I know, you grabbed my waist and kissed me on my cheeks and lips. Your tongue took a calm expedition through my mouth while the cars rumbled and whizzed. You did not linger. You pushed your calloused fingers through my hair, pulled my head and my body closer to yours. You made the familiar dive into my mouth with your tongue, aggressive and sure.

I felt your stubble brushing against my chin and I started smiling because it was ticklish. But I didn’t stop, because I like the tickling sensation. We pulled away and started making our way back, but we stopped and kissed at every 5 steps we walked.

Words, were not needed during the interruptive, long walk back.

You held my hand and asked me to stay with you by the pool. We started passing shots of whisky back and forth and smoked cigarettes until our lungs hurt- a toxic combination that only writers could appreciate.

You started talking about your past relationships because it is always difficult to escape from them. You told me your ex girlfriend of 5 years cheated on you and it took you years to recover. You showed me your family pictures and how often you skyp-ed with your nephews and nieces. You told me their names and you showed me your travelling pictures. You asked me to go travel with you. I nodded while my cheeks grew warmer not because of your words, but because of the alcohol. You told me you like me and you’re looking to settle down.

I wanted you to stop telling me things, because I didn’t want to know you at such depths.

“Tell me about yourself.” I kept quiet. You pulled me in and asked, “Why do you look so hurt?” I took another shot of whisky and said nothing. “You don’t trust me, do you?” I looked at you and your lips. I could choose to open up and tell you everything, I thought. But I chose to seal the nothingness between our kisses.

I didn’t want to think about anything, because I had someone else in mind.

The next morning, you called and messaged several times and I didn’t pick up.

“Take care, my beautiful girl.” That’s your last message.

Thank you for comforting the dents on my heart with your kind lips.

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