As we park the car, the anticipation builds in my chest. It's a tightness, tingling. I notice my heart starts to pick up a beat, my hands are clenching, I can't stop moving. I'll get to see him.
The weeks were we don't see each other it's easier for me to forget. We don't interact, falling into the day to day chaos that moves the world forward. Work is busy, the house always need some attention, other friends, additional responsibilities. He becomes a passing thought through the weeks or an occasional text message. He doesn't always pull me in so strongly; right now he's like a tornado going through my life and leaving me bruised and broken just by being. As we descend the stairs my throat is tight and a slight smile begins to dance across my lips. I have to remind myself to play it cool. I turn the corner and mutter a cheerful welcome to everyone. I see him. We lock eyes. He smiles. I look away. I can't bear it.
I have to resist every urge to reach out and touch him. My body is being pulled to him by some mysterious magic and I cannot act. I notice myself searching for any words that may spark a conversation while simultaneously doing the best I can to not pay too much attention to him. I keep sneaking a look at him and then looking away. I've forgotten about everyone else in the room for minutes at a time. The air feels thick around me. I feel like I'm going to suffocate. I want everyone else to go away so it can just be the two of us lost in conversations about nothing and everything for hours. The game starts, I feel irritated. This gives me a chance to tease him and be playful. It gives me an opportunity to interact with him and write it off as "being in character." I can pretend to love him and hate him and it's all fair game. I can pretend to be somebody else for a little bit.
I always sit next to him. I look for any little reason to touch him; his touch soothes me down to the core of my soul. It's a sweet taste of the forbidden fruit I'll never be able to have. I linger. I know I'm holding on a bit more than I should. Under the table, accidentally, our feet brush. I want to stay. In the past, I have. This game I'm playing feels dangerous to me. My husband's feet hit the pile. He cracks a joke. A wave of anger rides though my body. This was my moment to get lost in the fantasy and he took it away. I don't think he knows. I don't withdraw. Neither does he, not really. We're within a safe inch of each other.
We end, I leave. My heart drops. These secret moments within my head are the ones that maintain me over time. I keep searching for a reason to call or text. I send a random thought, he responds. I try to keep going. The conversation dies out. I have so many things I want to say to him. I want to be flirty, be cute. I want to tell him how if our paths had crossed in a different time and space I would have have pursued him. I can't imagine a life together. We wouldn't have worked, I know that. I don't even know if I want a relationship with him. I just want a moment, a night. I want to get him out of my system. I want us to fall into our primal instincts, fuck each other to within an inch of our lives, and then have him leave me in pieces.