Friends?
I've been friends with my best girlfriend for almost 6 years. We had been through thin and thick together, helping, supporting and loving each other in our own particular way. Six years where we grew to know and understand each other quite well.
She came to visit me last year for three weeks with its weekends, plus 2 days. We talked non-stop from dawn to dusk, went partying and drinking during the nights, driving around on weekends, sipping coffee in the afternoons, we shopped, cooked, laughed, watched TV, we even slept together in the same bed. Friends after all, best friends. That's what we were. What we are, I guess.
Time came when that bottle of Tequila was open, shots were tossed down our throats, eyes locked and lips kissed. And kissed and kissed and kissed. First on the sofa, then on the hardwood floors, then back on the sofa, and then some more on the sofa. We went to bed late that night as friends, and woke up the next morning as lovers. Best friends and lovers, confidants, soul mates, roommates, accomplices, cronies. Partners in crime. We shared the most precious gift two people can offer to one another. The gift of love, mixed with lust.
We loved each other with that determination and that driven look in our eyes that only two lovers with a deadline looming on the horizon had: her flight back home. Unavoidable.
I thought back then that that experience was going to drag us even closer together. I thought about it as a pact, a secret pact between us that would keep us closer together forever. Friends, best friends bound by an even deeper link. A connection that no one else could understand. Sharing stories and feelings like we've always had. I being happy when she was happy; her, being happy when I was happy. Both of us sad when the other was sad.
It's been almost a year now since our encounter. Almost 12 months. That encounter that I keep right in the middle of the sweetest spot of my heart; in the sunniest day of my mind; the brightest star in my universe. There's where I keep it.
I've been waiting for her to reply my "Happy New Year!" e-mail, sent before the end of December. Sent to all her three e-mail addresses. This past December.
I really thought, honestly, from the bottom of my heart, that we were going to be always friends.
She came to visit me last year for three weeks with its weekends, plus 2 days. We talked non-stop from dawn to dusk, went partying and drinking during the nights, driving around on weekends, sipping coffee in the afternoons, we shopped, cooked, laughed, watched TV, we even slept together in the same bed. Friends after all, best friends. That's what we were. What we are, I guess.
Time came when that bottle of Tequila was open, shots were tossed down our throats, eyes locked and lips kissed. And kissed and kissed and kissed. First on the sofa, then on the hardwood floors, then back on the sofa, and then some more on the sofa. We went to bed late that night as friends, and woke up the next morning as lovers. Best friends and lovers, confidants, soul mates, roommates, accomplices, cronies. Partners in crime. We shared the most precious gift two people can offer to one another. The gift of love, mixed with lust.
We loved each other with that determination and that driven look in our eyes that only two lovers with a deadline looming on the horizon had: her flight back home. Unavoidable.
I thought back then that that experience was going to drag us even closer together. I thought about it as a pact, a secret pact between us that would keep us closer together forever. Friends, best friends bound by an even deeper link. A connection that no one else could understand. Sharing stories and feelings like we've always had. I being happy when she was happy; her, being happy when I was happy. Both of us sad when the other was sad.
It's been almost a year now since our encounter. Almost 12 months. That encounter that I keep right in the middle of the sweetest spot of my heart; in the sunniest day of my mind; the brightest star in my universe. There's where I keep it.
I've been waiting for her to reply my "Happy New Year!" e-mail, sent before the end of December. Sent to all her three e-mail addresses. This past December.
I really thought, honestly, from the bottom of my heart, that we were going to be always friends.
Jean-Francois was drunk at 9:46 PM
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