My breath is short, my heart is beating fast
Every time I smile at him he's smiling back
If I'm dreaming please just let me sleep
Anyone can see he's too good for me
Oh, give it time, he'll find out soon enough
Just let me have and hold him till he does
What we've got going on is so incredible
This chemistry between us feels so wonderful
But knowing me I'll probably find a way to mess it up
Who knows, who cares, right now just let me be in love
Don't concern me with reality
Don't convince me he's too heavenly
Forget the future disregard the past
Those are questions I don't wanna ask
To my heart, all that matters is tonight
Just let me live this moment in his eyes
What we've got going on is so incredible
This chemistry between us feels so wonderful
But knowing me I'll probably find a way to mess it up
Who knows, who cares, right now just let me be in love



He was standing there, leaning against the wall, picking at his nails when I walked by. He looked up, trying so hard to look like it was a casual encounter, a chance meeting. He smiled at me, and I glared back at him, trying to make him think I wasn't in the mood to talk. But, he wasn't playing that game. "Good match," he said, almost shyly. I turned and looked at him - truly looked at him. I opened my mouth, ready to go off on him, to ask him how he thought that sorry excuse for a match could be good. But, I couldn't say a thing. I couldn't bring myself to subject him to my usual tirade, or one of my asinine ramblings. So I muttered a thank you and continued walking toward the door.

It took me a second to realize he was walking next to me. I stopped and turned to him. For a moment, he looked afraid, or so I thought. Then I noticed he was fidgeting again. My eyes narrowed as I watched him. I could tell he had something on his mind, and part of me screamed to help him, ease his pain, end his torment. I looked at him and said, "What do you want now?" Suddenly, it was as if I had let the air out of a balloon. All the joy, all the nervousness, all the emotion drained out of him as he turned to walk away, muttering under his breath.

"Wait," I called to him. He turned back to me. Are those tears in his eyes? I walked toward him, setting my bag on the floor. I reached out and touched his shoulder and I swear I felt sparks. His head is down, so I reach out and place my hand under his chin, lifting it so I can stare into his eyes. They dart back and forth, afraid to settle on me, I guess, afraid to see what I'm going to do or say. "That was extremely rude of me," I say as his eyes settle on mine. "I'm sorry."

His face lights up immediately, his smile bringing out his dimples, his eyes almost dancing in his head. It's contagious. How can you not smile at something like that? So, he's standing there, smiling and I'm smiling, and we probably look like a couple of idiots, grinning at each other like that. "Thanks," he said. I just continue to smile. Finally, I speak again, in a softer tone than before. "So," I say, "did you want something?"

There was that nervous fidget again. "Well," he said, rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, "I was jus' wonderin' if you wasn't busy later or nothin' if you would wanna hang out for a while. With me." That sweet smile returned, and I couldn't help but notice the way the tip of his tongue peeked out between his lips when he smiled. I was concentrating on his tongue, all my focus on his mouth. I guess he mistook this for something else, because he began to frown.

No! my mind screamed. Make the smile come back! "What did you have in mind?" I asked him. There it was! He started bouncing in place. "Well, I heard about this club, not too far from here, and thought maybe we could check it out," he answered quickly, afraid that I would turn again. I contemplated this for a moment before answering, "Sure. What time?" The bouncing continued. "Uh, I gotta go back to the hotel and change," he said. I nodded. "How about an hour from now?"

I smiled and nodded. "See ya then!" he said before turning and running down the hallway. I picked up my bags and walked toward the exit, glancing back briefly, just in time to see him jump into the air and let out a loud whoop. I smiled, wondering if he knew that inside, I was doing the same thing. Alone with my thoughts now, I praised him and cursed myself.

I stood in my room, surveying every article of clothing I had brought with me and decided none of them were good enough. I needed something…different. I needed to be different. I had no idea what was going through his mind when he asked me out. Maybe what they said was true…maybe the poor kid had landed on his head one too many times. That would explain his sudden interest in me. Finally, I picked up a pair of black jeans and a shirt. They would have to do.

I was five minutes late getting to the lobby, but he wasn't there yet either. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe someone had talked him out of what he was about to do. I looked around and decided to give him ten minutes, then I would go back to my room. I didn't want anyone to see me waiting here for him. I had not made up my mind if I was happy or sad that he wasn't there, when I heard the elevator.

He was with a few others, talking and laughing. Oh, the confidence of youth! I saw him look around and his eyes landed on me. He said something to the group he was with and headed my direction. My heart seemed to stop for a moment as he neared. In a flash, he was in front of me, his green hair falling over one eye, his tongue peeking out between those full lips. Have they always been that color?

"HI!" he said, his enthusiasm contagious. Despite my nervousness, my cynicism, my pondering of his motives, I smile again. He seems to bring out the best of me, if such a thing exists. "Hey," I respond. "You look very nice." God, what an idiot! Small talk has never been my forte. He blushes and whispers something. It sounded like "thank you", so I reply, "you're welcome. Are you ready to go?" He nods so fast that he resembles a bobblehead and I have to laugh.

He laughs along with me - well, more of a giggle, actually - and I allow myself to think that I might enjoy this evening. As we walk out into the parking lot, I ask if he has directions to the club. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. "Ya wanna drive or ya want maybe I should?" he asks. For once in my life, I don't feel the need to correct his grammar. Surprisingly, I find his southern drawl and incorrect use of the English language quite charming.

"I think I'll drive," I answer as we approach my car. I unlock the passenger side door and open it for him, waiting for him to climb into the car. Making sure all of his parts are inside, I close the door and make my way around the car to the driver's side. After I get in, I look over at him. "I've seen you drive before." He looks over at me, mock indignation on his face. "Yeah? What's dat supposed ta mean?"

I laugh. A genuine laugh, for the first time in as long as I can remember. "There are a lot of things I like doing when I go on a date, but dying is not high on that list," I tell him. His giggle pierces my brain as I realize what I've just said. I glance over at him and he smiles, his dimples deepening, eyes sparkling. Suddenly, I am nervous again. I hand the directions back to him. "Think you can tell me where to go?" I ask as I start the car.

He reads the directions as I drive and we make it there in no time. The parking lot is full, but I find a space on the second trip through. We head into the club, which is dark and loud and full of people. I scan the tables, finally locating one near the back. I point it out to him and he nods. I ask him what he wants to drink and head for the bar while he goes to get the table.

Holding both glasses carefully so I don't spill them, I push my way through the crowd and over to him. He stands up and waves at me so I can find him. As if that would be difficult to do. I put the drinks on the table and sit down. He pulls his chair closer to me, leaning over to talk so I can hear him over the music. Small talk again. And, amazingly enough, I enjoy it.

We both sip our drinks slowly, listening to the music. A fast song comes on and he looks at me, that same nervous look on his face. He fidgets in his seat for a moment before I realize what he wants to ask, but can't. I lean over. "You want to dance?" I ask and his face lights up again. He jumps from his seat as I rise slowly and head toward the dance floor.

God, I love the way he moves. Slowly, sensuously, his hips swaying with the beat of the music. I watch, wondering how he would move underneath me. Oh god. Yes, that thought just crossed my mind. No, that's not right either. That thought just sat itself down in the middle of my brain and has taken root. I find myself concentrating on the way he moves, everything else blocked from my mind.

I'm standing there, watching him. He stops and I look at him. Really, truly look at him. He is beautiful. I've known this for some time, but have never allowed myself to admit it. There is another truth I have never admitted, out loud or to myself. I am in love. I have been for quite awhile. And now, the object of my desire is looking at me, wondering why I am staring at him like this. And I have no intention of telling him.

We go back to the table, sit down, finish our already watery drinks. He leans over and asks me if we can leave. Great. Beautiful. He's not having a good time. I ask him if he's sure he wants to do that, and he nods. But, then he smiles. I have no clue what's going on in that mind of his, but I would give anything to solve that mystery.

As we walk out the exit, the sky is much darker than it should have been. He looks up, an enigmatic smile crossing his face. He stands in the middle of the parking lot, staring at the sky. "It's gonna rain!" he exclaims. And the drops begin to plummet from the clouds, as if he has magically conjured up this downpour.

I stand there, totally fascinated, as he begins to spin around, the rain soaking his already skin-tight shirt and jeans, water spraying off his green locks. He begins to sing, the words coming from that special place within him. Laughing, he reaches for my hand and pulls me to him, spinning me around as well. It has been a long time since I had seen him filled with such joy, and even longer since I had felt it myself.

I laughed along with him, dancing and spinning as the heavens burst open above us, drenching us with warm rain. I look down at his face, seeing everything good and pure that has ever existed in the universe. And I pulled him to me, gently placing my lips on his. His arms wrap around my neck, pulling me closer, deeper into his mouth. For once, I feel whole, complete. I know where I belong.

As he breaks the kiss, suddenly the rain stops. He looks up at the streetlights and laughs, pointing out the rainbow that has appeared there. "I've never seen a rainbow at night," I tell him. He pulls away from me, splashing into a nearby puddle. "It's magic, ya know," he says, beckoning me to follow him. I want to tell him that he's wrong, that he's the magic, but I'm afraid to break the spell.

When we get to the car, he takes the keys from me and finds some towels in the trunk. He neatly spread them out in the seats then climbed in. I follow. "Where to now?" I ask. He says he's hungry, and I remind him that we are soaking wet, and not really fit to go anywhere. He says, "We'll get somethin' and go back to the hotel. That ok?" I nod. I cannot refuse anything he asks, not now.

He orders a kid's meal and immediately rips open the toy as we drive back. In the lobby, we get a few stares - me with my braids leaving a trail of water with every step I take, carrying a bag of fast food, and him, his green hair several shades darker from the rain, playing with a cheap action figure. I laugh as he spins around when someone calls his name, making shooting sounds as he continues his childlike game.

In the elevator, he wraps his arms around himself, finally feeling the chill of his wet clothes. I reach for him, pulling him close to warm him. He wraps his body around mine, his hands rubbing up and down my back. I shiver. "You cold?" he asks, his voice full of concern. I look into the depths of his green eyes and shake my head. "No," I whisper, leaning down to kiss his full lips again. They taste faintly of strawberries. That would explain their dark glossiness earlier. And his warm, wet body slowly grinding against my groin would explain the tightening in my pants.

I push him away, and that dark cloud covers his face again. He thinks he's done something wrong. "Sorry," he whispers, his head down. I pull him back. "No, don't apologize," I say. He looks at me, the questions apparent in his gaze. "Not here," I say, quickly kissing him again before the elevator doors open. We head down the hall toward my room. I stop at the door but he continues. He goes to the next room, then looks back at me and laughs.

"Um," he says nervously. "Yours or mine?" I know that I am rooming alone, and I assume that he's sharing with his brother. I don't know which would make him more comfortable, so I say, "it's up to you." He stands there, pondering for a moment, when his face lights up. "Lemme put on somethin' dry, then I'll come to your room." I nod, making sure he's safely in his room before entering mine.

I strip off my wet clothes, drying myself with one of the miniscule towels in the bathroom, then throw on sweats and a t-shirt. I set out the food we got on the small table, then turn on the TV, searching for something semi-intelligent to occupy myself. A few minutes later, there's a knock on the door connecting our rooms.

When I open the door, I am entranced once again by his beauty. His hair, a lighter shade of green now, is hanging loose. He's wearing a shirt that I know is not his because of the way it drapes across his slender shoulders. A pair of long khaki shorts brush the tops of his knees, and his lips are once again that dark pink shade I'm beginning to love.

I move back so he can enter the room. He moves the table over so that he can see the television, then changes the channel to Cartoon Network. He looks at me, asking permission. I nod my assent. "Matty never lets me watch cartoons," he says, popping a French fry into his mouth. I watch as his tongue snakes out and licks ketchup from his fingers. Never in my life would I have considered fast food to be erotic - until I watched this lovely sprite eating it as if it were a gourmet meal.

I picked at my food, unable to eat more than a few bites. My mind was elsewhere, remembering when I too had been that young, that full of promise. "Not hungry?" he asks, breaking me out of my daydreams. I shake my head. "Not really," I say. He smiles again. "Wanna talk?" he asks. "Sure," I answer. He starts asking questions, simple things about my favorite food, what movies I like, books I've read. I ask similar questions, committing his answers to memory.

Then, he looks at me with all the youth and innocence he possesses, and asks the question that shakes me to the core. "What's your biggest fear?" I ponder my answer. How should I respond to this? My biggest fear - to be alone, to be unloved, to have him walk out the door, and my life, for me to never be allowed to explore this wonderful feeling in the pit of my stomach. What should I say?

That I fear him? Or that I fear falling so deeply in love with him that I can't stand it, and to have him return those feelings, knowing that the day will come when I completely, totally, beyond all repair, screw things up so badly that he goes through the rest of his days loathing the sound of my voice, the sight of my face, the mention of my name?

He's looking at me rather intently, waiting for my answer. I take a deep breath and say the only thing I can - "love." He contemplates this for a moment then nods solemnly. "Yeah." That's his only response. I look at him, waiting for him to elaborate, and I see he's doing the same to me. I shrug my shoulders, not knowing how to explain myself. "What about you?" I finally ask. "Bein' lonely," he replies.

I want to take him into my arms and tell him that, as long as he will allow me, he will never be lonely again. That I will be there for him, to hold him, comfort him. I will chase away the monsters that wake him in the middle of the night, reducing him to a child once again. I would move mountains for him, catch the moon and the stars with my bare hands if that was his desire. I would do all that, and more.

Instead, I look at him, wishing I had the courage to make that declaration, the one that was sitting on the tip of my tongue, the edge of my brain, the middle of my heart. He gets up from the table and sits on the edge of the bed. His delicate hand pats the covers next to him and I join him there. My heart is racing, and I wonder if his is as well.

Almost as if he read my mind, he takes my hand and places it on his chest. I feel his heart beating strong and steady. As I slide it across his chest and brush my fingertips over the hardened flesh of his nipple, I feel his heart race. His eyes slip closed as I toy with the tiny nub, his soft moan tickling my ears. He puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me gently toward him.

Our lips meet and I slide my other arm behind his back, pulling him into my lap. He straddles my thighs, one hand tugging gently at my hair, the other tracing the design on my shirt, brushing over my nipples. I moan into his sweet mouth, wanting more, but afraid to move. I am finally convinced that he can read my mind as I feel his hand slide down my chest and his fingers trace the edge of my sweats, leaving a trail of fire there.

His hand moves back up and he gently pushes me back until I am on the bed and he is on top of me. Holding onto him, I slide up until we are completely on the bed, then roll onto my side. He breaks the kiss and looks into my eyes. "Can I tell ya a secret?" he asks. I nod. He starts chewing on his lip again and this time, I lean forward and trace the line of his lips with my tongue. He's sweet and salty at the same time and I am slowly becoming addicted to his taste.

He moans again and I lean back a little. "What is it, baby?" I ask, loving the sound of that word coming from my mouth. "I…I," he stutters. "I really like you a lot," he says. I want to will him not to speak, not to ruin this moment I'm having, but I can't. I raise my eyebrows, trying to prompt him to continue. "I have for a real long time, but…" He stops again.

"But what?" I asked. He looks away, then finds my eyes again. "I was kinda scared of ya," he said. "Then I started watchin' ya, and I figured that you wasn't so scary." I smiled. "It's okay," I say. "I can be a little intimidating, to those who don't understand me." He nods. "That's the thing, though," he said, his fingers toying with my belly button. "I understand ya."

Yes, I believe he does. And I understand him, which is what scares me. He needs love. He needs tenderness. But, does he need me? God, I hope so. "I think…" he continues. "Scotty, I think I love you." He buries his head in my chest, hiding from my reaction. In a way, I'm glad. I don't know if I want him to see the tears in my eyes. Then, I realize that I need him to see. I raise his head and look at him, causing him to look at me as well.

I lean down and kiss him, not a deep, passionate kiss, but a sweet, tender one, hoping he understands the meaning of such a thing. I find my lips moving, not kissing, but speaking against his mouth. "I love you, too, Jeff," I say, and for the first time in my life, I have hope that this is a good thing. He squeals then his mouth is on mine again, hungry, needy, wanting something from me that I am more than willing to give.

We undress each other slowly, savoring each newly discovered inch of flesh, relishing the moans, the giggles, the fire burning within. His lips slide down my body, and when he takes me into his mouth, I can do nothing but moan. His hair feels like silk in my hands as I guide him on my journey to heaven. When I slip myself into his tight entrance, I realize that I have truly found what I have searched for my entire life.

Slow and gentle, that is the pace that we follow. He urges me on, whispering words of love, placing gentle kisses on my face. Never before have I received such tenderness, never have I associated this act with anything but pain and anguish. I don't try to hide the tears that are now falling onto his sweet face, mixing with ones that have slipped from his eyes as well.

His hand joins mine as I begin to stroke him, wanting him to have as much pleasure as I am. When he asks for more, I give it to him, until we are both hurtling closer to the edge before dropping over into sweet oblivion. After, as we lie there, whispering words of love, I pray to the gods above to watch over him, us, to keep me from disappointing him, hurting him. But, right now, as I drift off to sleep, I refuse to worry about any of that. Right now, all I want to do is love.