Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?...Wonderland
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Friends do not kiss, so we decided on no rules, no bounds.
The night was just magical, and the heat was so intense that we melted into each other, our lips inadvertently touching. It was the moon's fault. Beings under the moonlight tend to act up, so it was nothing more than an instinct, a primal response.
We were never friends to begin with, merely companions content with our connection. We had already crossed that bridge, and the only thing left was to live in that bliss of indifference, our eyes closed to the world. Excuses were convenient, as long as they allowed us to bask in each other's aura of freedom.
Smiling, I gazed at the mirror, reflecting a young, beautiful lady with a sparkle in her eyes that had been missing for so long.
She looked vibrant, like the dress she adorned—a yellow summer off-shoulder dress with a tasteful dip in the neckline, revealing just enough to allure while still leaving something to the imagination. The dress was long but light, flowing gently, revealing a long thigh slit with every step, adding a touch of sensuality.
Atop her head sat a brown hat, more of a fashion statement now than a shield from the sun. It was going to be our first time stepping out into the open, with the skies shining blue above us.
Gabriel and I—the thought alone sent a jolt of excitement through me.
Stepping out of my comfort zone, the hotel room, I tapped my feet, my gaze fixed on his door, waiting for him to emerge—and he did. The only thing that came to mind was, 'What's up, Hawaii guy?'
There was an allure in his stride, a certainty that painted each step with an air of confidence and charm. As he advanced towards me, the world seemed to still, save for the gentle tumult that arose within me—a flutter, soft and insistent, unfurling in the pit of my stomach.
As he approached, I noticed his sun-kissed skin and the way his brown hair tousled effortlessly in the breeze. His Hawaiian shirt was vibrant and colorful, perfectly matching his carefree and adventurous spirit, which was contagious.
"Hi," he smirked, his dimple making a charming appearance.
"Ready?" he inquired, his hands an open invitation in the space between us. It was a gesture that coaxed an unbidden smile to bloom across my lips, as natural as flowers to the sun. And in the simple act of laying my hands in his, there was a silent promise of adventure, a tacit agreement to leap into the unknown together.
It was as if summer itself had arrived in a single, resplendent moment—ice cream, once just sweet, now an ambrosia that sang of richer days. On the sandy courts, our laughter mingled with the scores we tallied, too many to count, in games of beach volleyball.
I found myself blending with the crowd, the weight of the world shedding from my shoulders like a shadow at noon, replaced by the lightness of shared mirth that buoyed us all.
"You are an artist, and I am a poet," I once said while we danced salsa in the streets of a vibrant city. The rich music of the salsa band reverberated through the cobblestone streets, mingling with our laughter and the rhythm of our steps.
"What a perfect match, no?" he mused, eyes alight with a playful glint, mirroring the jest of stars. Yet within me, a carnival came to life: butterflies in a delicate waltz, monkeys in mischievous swing, and nerves entwining in a rhapsody of delightful chaos.
What is this? I wondered, breathless, as the space between us dwindled to a mere whisper, his breath a tender artist, painting warmth upon my lips.
Could the music, with its rhythmic pulse and sultry melodies, be a scapegoat this time?