I had to look into the dictionary to fine a word to aptly represent the way I think in my head. I found this:
I got close to someone. We bonded over intellectual property- the beauty in poetry, the way books made you travel through time, the way a word could mean a thousand things. As time went by, he saw through me; past the English, the sarcasm, the wit. He saw the colour of polish on my nails and the hair I never seemed pressed to braid.
We would take walks on long roads and dance in the middle when no car was passing. Then we would lie in the middle of the road when no one was watching. We began to have inside jokes- the ones only both of us understood. We would race our shadows and see who could jump higher to cut leaves from trees. He called it aimless wandering.
After our walk, we would run under the arcs beside the Senate building and then hide between the walls, because the regular people were asleep or reading- and we were seizing the moment.
It was during one of those times, after we sat down on a slab at the motion ground, sharing a bottle of coke and our very different music playlists, that he kissed me. It was brief, it was polite, it was a question. I answered.
The next time, after our round of aimless wandering, we got to the arc, then sat on the slab. And the next thing I heard was my voice. Kiss me.