“If I kiss you, it’s saying something.” His breath is hot against my ear. My body is awake; lit. Alive.
“What is it saying, Jonah?”
“That this is real. You and me.”
“You’ve known me an hour. How real can it be?” I ask but don’t believe in my own question.
“Because you can’t fake real, Faith.”
He’s right of course. And when he kisses me it’s the realest moment of my life. The words I’ve been looking for are found and my lips part and his tongue is against mine and everything — everything — in this moment is right. The story I thought I’d been writing is all wrong. Because this is the story that makes sense, the one that I want. Everything from before can be ripped up and thrown away.
We’d bring those memories with us, of course, but they aren’t the part that will carry us forward. Jonah’s hands on my face, his mouth on my mouth — this is where my story begins.