I wanted to kiss him all night, but I did not want him to think I was easy. I knew many girls liked him, and I did not want to chase him like all the others. I was falling for him, and despite my doubts, I felt that it was mutual. We began talking about Dostoyevsky, sitting on a couch at his friend’s house party. He said his favorite book by him was the Gambler.
“The problem is the ending. He gives up. He quits. What are you doing, you can’t do that, you can’t ever quit!” Andre said as he jumped up from the couch to emphasize his point.
I laughed, I liked his display of aggression. I told him my opinion of Dostoyevsky,
“Dostoyevsky didn’t believe in God, he just didn’t know he didn’t believe in God.”
Andre jumped up from the couch again. He liked what I said. I wanted to kiss him badly, but I knew I had to wait. Otherwise he would think I was easy, and after tonight he would not like me anymore. He would laugh about me with his friends.
We left the party together, he said he would walk me home accross campus. We passed under the stars on a beautiful summer night, or morning at this point, and we held hands. He kissed me as we crossed the center of campus, which was lined with trees.
“If you want to kiss me again, you have to catch me!” I told him, and darted towards a tree. I jumped up before I knew what I was doing, and found myself peering down onto the top of Andre’s brown-haired curls.
“Are you serious? Do you think I am a squirrel?” he called up.
He began climbing after I did not reply with word but only laughed instead, and he pulled himself directly next to where I was, crouched on the trunk. He kissed me again, and I let it linger.
I’m not being that easy, am I? I wondered to myself.
I jumped down, and ran to the tree next to the one Andre still sat in. He followed me down and up, and kissed me again. We stayed there awhile, with the scratching bark, tickling leaves, and summer air. I thought I was falling in love. I thought he was too.
We did not speak the next day, nor the one after that, nor the one after that. We did not speak for 6 months. I did not call him, I did not want to chase him. He did not call me. Clearly he did not want to chase me.
I will probably never see him again, but he will always be the boy I kissed with a pounding heart in two trees in the middle of campus, while the rest of the world calmly dozed.
Tags: climbing trees, dostoyevsky, kissing, love
