“What are you doing?” Instead of responding with words, I press my lips to hers in answer. I’m kissing her. That’s what I’m doing. Kissing a woman I really want to kiss. Not because she’s gorgeous or because I want to get laid tonight. Those are truths, yes, but I kiss her because I like that she sees through the show I normally put on and calls it like it is. Because she’s the first person in months to make me want to take a risk. To make me want to make the effort.
