Eros

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, they sat on a corduroy couch sandwiched in by friends. Feet up on a shared footstool, she rubbed her socked foot against his.

He reached for her hand, surprising them both.

What movie was playing, she couldn't tell you now. But the images that flickered through her brain as they sat hand in hand on brown corduroy were just a preview of a long, sweet story to come.

The group of friends gathered for a smoke at the communal smoking wall, basking in the weekend sun. But she had forgotten her bag in his room.

Did he want to come with her to get it?

And so they went, and so they sat- wide eyed and breathless, hearts and lips racing as they talked over each other, perched on the corner of the corduroy couch, asking what was that? and what is this? and what are we? and realizing that they didn't know.

But that it didn't matter.

They'd figure it out after he kissed her.

And he did, and they did.

And twelve years later, on this sunny Saturday afternoon, they're still living the story that started on that sunny Saturday afternoon in a college dorm room on a comfy couch among friends and a shared footstool.

I love you, Babe. And I'm so glad you kissed me.