My bare feet sank into the warm wet soil as I walked out to his car with a note in my hand hidden behind the pack of ciggarettes he had left behind when my sister resolved to take him home and away from me. I walked, the humid dirt congealing into mud between my toes, feeling every bit as sqiushy as my heart feels knowing I might never speak to him again if I don't get him this note. We both sensed it earlier, that things between he and her may be shortly coming to an end. I flagged them down and put the pack into his hand, note first. My hand lingered over his as he felt the note and his mind understood what it was. We felt the electricity break as our contact did, as if a circuit had been disconnected. I walked back into the house, and no sooner had i sat upon the coach where we had spent hours getting to know each other than I heard his knock on the door. I forgot something, he said, and held his own note out to me. It was the same thing my note had been, his phone number. He said he would text me when he got home, and left. For the next 2 hours I bugged my friend Desi to death talking about him and telling her the details of the story thus far, and though she was slightly dissapointed in me for entertaining such thoughts about my sister's boyfriend, once she saw his picture, she didn't blame me. Then he called. Desi took her leave, and I was alone with him for the next 3 hours on the phone, in heaven, or at least on the road that leads there. We talked about their problems. She was lying to him over trivial things, and it was hurting him. What was happening between us was still unspoken, is still unspoken, we just knew we had to stay in contact with each other even if they broke up. We had each reacher the same conclusion independently and had obviously spent the previous day both thinking of how to pass our respective notes to the other without getting caught. We talked about he and my sister some, but mostly we talked about us, how we loved spending time together and what we thought about each other. He likes that I understand more things than many people he knows, and I like that he is one of the collest guys I have met in my life. We touched on our mutual desire to hangout away from everyone else, and comandeered Desi's apartment as the place to do it. We figurer out that we would like to live together and share a room and earn money by doing camshows, switching off on the camera, watching each other play sexy for our audience. He offered to beat up the bouncer and owner of a bar that had banned me for being transgender and embarrasing too many of their patrons when they would hit on me and I would be up front with them. All I needed was someone willing to stick up for me, I don't need him to actually do it. I couldn't bare the risk of losing him. I know that when desi takes me to pick him up and brings us to his place, that I'll put my feet up on his lap in the back seat, and that his hands will close around them and start caressing them. I know that will be his way of saying yes, that he is attracted to me and that he does want me, and that later at desi's, we may end up having sex, and that on the way home, it will be my head laying on his shoulder, and his arms wrapped around me, and our lives as lovers will be underway. I was wrong ahout him not being my future. He is it.
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