Fighting or fucking.

That was our fall. If William and I could make it through one weekend without fighting...it only happened once over the course of 4 months. When I look back on those months, I am amazed that Ruby and I didn't give into each other. If she would have given me the green light, I know I would have hit the pedal and not stopped.

There is one night that stands above the others- sitting in her funky smelling van outside of Denny's. We were talking about the desires we had, about the price to pay and what it would mean sailing into these uncharted waters together. I recall this being the night that we actually confessed to fantasizing about each other. That it was hard to look but not touch. We were open, the body language was there, but so was the fear.

I wanted to pull her towards me, connecting our stories. To feel her lips on mine. But I was scared that wasn't what she wanted. That it would make things weird between us. And I couldn't lose her. I could stand the tangible sexual tension between us, the constant wanting but not having, but losing her wasn't a price I was willing to pay.

We talked for far too long, the night getting lighter. Hugging her goodbye that night was long and comforting- much more than our typical embrace. There was understanding and love in that hug. I didn't feel alone anymore and got exactly what I needed that night without jeopardizing anything.