Possible toxicity

My mouth salivates as his muscles flex mixing the homemade pasta sauce, he is making for me. Calves defining as he steps to the stove to mix the noodles. This man doesn’t miss leg day.

“Pasta’s done” he says strikening me out of my daze.

“Lets test your skills” I say quickly to distract the fact that I was just analyzing his muscle structure.

“I think I added too much salt” he says seeming embaressed.

He reaches out to feed me like the romance movies I watch and love, aspiring to be like them one day and here I am, testing pasta. I wince at the amount of salt he added and quickly fix my face to assure him its not that bad.

“Just a bit” I say

“No, yeah, I demolished this, I was nervous to be honest” he responds.

“No I get that, my friend said the same thing, she was nervous cooking for me cause I am Italian” Instantly regretting what I said I look down as he responds;

“Well I just meant— I just meant cause it was my first time... I didn’t know you were Italian”

“Yeah not full bred though and its fine” I chuckle a bit “I can teach you”

He looks at me like his pride is hurt a bit , but I wanted to teach him, I really wasn’t judging, not many people can reach my par of expectations when it comes to pasta. We finish our food as much as we can and he takes my bowl to the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back” he says abrubtly.

“Where you going?” I hesitantly ask.

“I gotta make a phone call” he says a bit harsh

An akward silence fills the room as he walks out the door. I look out the window and he’s in his car, phone slightly down and not by his head. Meaning it’s a facetime, and his leg is propped up on the car. This man is relaxed on this facetime while I am sitting right here. I get annoyed and time ticks away as I wait for him to come back. Anime fills my beats headphones and I try to focus on the dialogue as the scene plays across my laptop screen.

The front door opens. He sits down, puts the blanket on and remains quiet.  

I don’t like the secretive shit but am I owed the truth?

I don't know. I feel like as humans we should be honest with each other.

I can’t help but feel a way about this. It's blatant on my face, cheekbones have sunken, and my energy is radiating in the room.

He pulls me closer and starts to untie my pants.

“What are you doing” I ask.

“Bout' to eat your pussy” he responds. He stops moving his hands and looks up at me.

“Read the fucking room” I say, not holding back at all.

“Your right , horrible timing” He says a bit ashamed.

I focus back on the anime playing on my laptop screen not paying any attention to the plot at all. The characters jumping around the screen as his strength pulls me in. He pulls me close to his chest and asks

“Is this okay?”

I breathe slowly trying to catch my breath because honestly his triceps are crushing my throat but to be honest, I could care less. His squeeze is somewhat medicinal and when I don’t have it I miss it, so instead I will sit here for a second and soak it in. I am addicted to his aura and I can’t help but wonder why I like him so much so fast. He says

“I catch myself wanting to be done work faster just to be around you”

My heart skips a beat. It's like this man is sent form heaven and I am wondering is this a test to see If I am ready yet? Forgetting his secretive phone call like the delusional character in the movie, with daddy issues desperate for love; every response I give is calm. And I work through any misunderstandings because for some reason I don’t feel the need to be angry at you and just in case, I don’t wanna fail.

 Clueless to what this is, I want to figure it out with you and I am wondering if you feel the same way too.

I respond

“Like we are in highschool” and I smile because I missed that feeling too, and I am happy I can share It with you. I wake up earlier hoping to spend more of the day with you, and wait by the phone for your response to my text. I like you like teenagers like their classmates that they doodle their name a million times and I know this cause your name etches itself a million times in my mind. I just want to be next to you, and when I speak of how you make me feel I can’t help but be poetic. Every thought comes out symphonic. I can imagine our love being deep and strong, passionate and long and all around wrong. I can see it being toxic, consuming and full, weighted and new, something that seems like it lasted a century before we even met eyes. Yes, I am saying I want you to be mine.

He lifts his head up looking me straight in my eyes and says

“I think we would be toxic”

“I said the same thing in my mind” I respond “but it would be good and passionate”

It gets silent for a second, as if we are

both contemplating if we even want that. We both got out of relationshps not too long ago, me two months ago and him six. Clearly we are lovers, clearly we want more of life, but are either of us ready?

“I don’t know if that’s what I even want right now, I got so much anger to heal”

He squeezes me tight and says “I am so happy you said that”

I wonder if he is happy I am not ready for love or the toxic…