It slips out in ways you can’t contain. The brush of your arm against mine that lingers too long. The heat in the air when you lean in close, voice lower than it needs to be, as if confiding something meant only for us.
Attraction leaks through our bodies before our minds can disguise it – the quickening of my breath the pulse in my throat, the way my eyes search your mouth when I know I should be looking away – betraying my attraction to you. Your hands betray you too – hovering, restless, finding excuses to reach, to pass me something, to let your skin graze mine.
It is in the stolen closeness, the tilt of my body towards yours without a second thought. The way silence thickens between us until it feels like a held breath. The world continuing around us – the noise, the chatter, the ordinary rhythm of the day – but beneath this runs a current. Sharp and magnetic. Pushing us towards a line neither of us have crossed.
But when our eyes catch, just for a second too long, it feels like there is a whole secret written. The wanting that neither of us can hide – no matter how careful we try to be to disguise our wants.
And in that suspended moment we hover – caught between what is and what could be. Knowing that if we never crossed the line – the wanting already carried us over.
Quixotically Perfect 