To be alone with you.

We’re sitting at the bar towards the end of the night. We’re chatting, we’re having a blast. I don’t want it to end. We’re cracking jokes and people love us. They think we’re funny and they don’t want us to leave. We get invited to the back of the bar…it’s exclusive. We’re special. We go. We drink more and we don’t go home until we literally have to. We don’t want to go home until we literally have to.

Fast forward to the same place with a different person. Two years later.

I’m happy to be here. We’re in different places talking to different people. I look over and I see you laugh. It sounds like you’re talking about politics. I feel warm. I love to see you laugh. I want to take you home and lay in bed and laugh with you. I’m having fun but I’m excited to go home with you. I hope we don’t get invited to the back. I’m making friends while you’re bullying someone over their views on oppression. We made a friend. I want to run my fingers through your hair. I am looking forward to going home with you so much.