The rush of her fingertips consumed you.
The rush of her fingertips consumed you: it didn't matter if she was gently brushing your arm with her feather light touch or whether her hands were tangled in your hair, you wanted more, you were addicted. She was your drug. She always left you breathless, no matter what she did. You were afraid to admit that you were in love with her, but you settled for the feeling of infatuation. You were infatuated with her entire existence – by the way her auburn curls glistened in the sun, by the way she looked down at her hands when she was embarrassed or nervous. You were mesmerised by the way her hazel eyes bored into yours, like she was capturing your soul by just one glance.
You remember the first time you spoke, when you were five. You were crying because you lost your favourite pair of sneakers in s ball pit. That's when you saw her – it was as if time had stopped, everything was invisible and it was just you and the mystery girl, who had long auburn hair, a floral dress and the most amazing smile you had ever seen.
She was special, there was no doubt about it.
From then on, you two were inseparable, you did everything together. You didn't know what it was about her, you just knew that you needed her in every way you thought possible. You fought the urge to kiss her every time she was around. It was at that point that you admitted to yourself that infatuation wasn't your reality anymore.
You were madly in love with the one and only, Karma Ashcroft.
You found yourself confessing your feelings at the night of your mom's wedding, to discover that she felt the same way. Your first kiss was simple, yet overpowering. It was one of those kisses that didn't have a beginning or an end, it made you weak in the knees and your head spin – you never wanted it to stop. Once you pulled away, she gave you a goofy grin that made you heart melt. She rested her head in the crook of your neck and you stayed like that for the whole night.
Engrossed in each other. Hopelessly in love.
You would never forget your first time having sex. The only word that comes to mind is mind blowing. That totally new experience of trust, exploration and whimpering – her whimpering, mostly. You liked seeing this side of her, totally exposed and vulnerable, in need of protecting. Your protection strategy seemed very popular. You knew that map of her body, you had it memorised, you knew which spots made her moan, which you decided was your favourite sound in the world. You both made your marks on the other, in the shape of hickeys that scatter the skin of your bodies. It always raised the eyebrows of your friends, and your reaction was always the same: you never said anything. No, instead you giggled whilst your cheeks tinged a deep red. She found this adorable and would always give you a well-deserved kiss, which always made you want her more, if that was even possible.
Arguing was your favourite. The way she would get jealous over everything, just showed you how in love with you she was. It gave you butterflies, you could never stay mad at her for long. You finally had the most perfect girl, that was more than you could possibly dream of and you were completely in love. Most of the time, you forgot what you were arguing about and captured her lips mid-sentence, she would then melt into your arms – like she was made for them. It suddenly hit you: she was home.
Your mind was racing, you were sure that she was the one you wanted to wake up to every morning, and fall asleep next to every night. Of course you had your doubts, in the past. You used to think up excuses of why she was with you, and the question that scared you the most: "What if I'm a phase to her?" At that point in time, all your worries had gone and you had made up your mind.
You were going to spend the rest of your life with Karma Ashcroft.
The day you proposed, you were so nervous. It didn't even compare to the time when you told her your true feelings. You've now reached the age of 24; you're a successful writer and she's a recording artist and is becoming a household name. When you got down on one knee, she had that cute confused look on her face, which she wore when she was freaking out or didn't know what was going on. You guessed, by her expression, that it was a bit of both. However, when you took out the ring and said the words "Will you marry me?" her eyes started to well up and she flashed you the brightest smile. You remember the happiness in her voice when she accepted your proposal. That kiss that mimicked the first kiss you ever shared; full of passion, full of love. You managed to notice the tiny glimpse of hope that shone through it – hope for your future, you decided.
And that brings you to where you are now; once again declaring your love for the girl you fell for many years ago. Both of your cheeks are tear soaked, as you reminisce on the memories that you two have shared together. The most beautiful girl is standing in front of you, her body coated in the most graceful white gown. You focus your attention on her lips, that are barely inches away from yours. Your hands are joined together with matching rings that symbolise your never ending love for each other. You were given permission to kiss and you rest one hand on her waist and the other skims her cheek. She closes the distance between you both. Her hands are wrapped in your hair, and you forget what it's like to breathe. The rush of her fingertips consumes you; it didn't matter if she was brushing your arm with her feather light touch, or whether her hands were tangled in your hair, you were addicted. She was your drug. The kiss left you breathless. You felt your knees beginning to get weak as you pulled away, watching as her eyes darkened slightly, but still held their sparkle.
You took her hand and lead her into a separate room, you weren't sure why you were thinking about the past when you were excited about the future, with her. You looked at her, with all the love you could possibly feel.
That's when you realised that you, Amy Raudenfeld, couldn't possibly love her, Karma Ashcroft, more than in this moment.