Intimate space. We met at my school yesterday and headed up to Golden Gate Park where we wandered and explored around the botanical gardens there. Then we headed to my place and cooked and watched "Fires in the Mirror" by Anne Deveare Smith. Then we headed to the East Bay and walked around Lake Merritt before returning to her place to munch and enjoy each other's company.
We settled on her couch with peaches and apples and a lit candle. I got tired even though it wasn't very late. I had only gotten four hours of sleep trying to cram for Evidence. She asked if I would be alright driving home. Of course, I would. Once I got in my car I'd be fine, I always am. As long as you aren't relying on faith to stay awake. No problem. Was she leaving room for me to decide to stay over?
I had to go, but I stayed. And stayed. Then asked to stay. There was no question that we were in love. Our feelings have been clear for a week since Angel Island, but there was still a touch of ambiguity on the exact nature of our relationship. Then it was gone when we kissed. It was intimacy blooming into a kiss. From lying together, to our faces being close, to our cheeks touching, to our noses brushing tantalizingly close to each others lips, to our lips brushing lightly and delicately against each others and then reaching.
