You can sharpen your knife

It's cold outside tonight. In between drinks I had to nip back inside to grab a second jacket and gloves. No matter, the beer is warming. It's interesting trying to conduct a relationship of any sort in a second language, in a second culture. Sometimes I find I don't want to talk for fear of making a mistake. Sometimes he simply switches back to English for me. Neither of us are perfect in either of our second languages, so perhaps I should get over it and keep going. When we become tired, we usually switch back to our mother tongue for ease of communication. We both understand, we just find it harder to express.

My plan had been to sit on the porch for a couple of beers. Two exactly. Charles has other ideas. The gin comes out, and after one very stiff drink, the liquid in the bottle steadily declines.
"I thought you didn't like gin?" I enquire. "J'aimais pas avant mais là c'est chill."

I don't remember what it feels like to have a crush on someone. Is this it? Hands held in gloves, laughing about my accent? Or is this Stockholm Syndrome? Loneliness even? He is beautiful.

There have been at least two men before Charles that have told me not to look at them. They'd always gaze into my eyes for a moment then turn away with some sort of sly smirk, and ask me not to look at them. It's a confusing thing to happen. My eyes don't mean to do anything in particular. But after half a bottle of gin they do.

"What?" he says.
"Quoi?" I ask.

And then we dance. It's like some hazy movie scene with music dubbed over top. I'm drunk and so is he. He leads and I attempt to follow while Mike Patton's voice croons Easy into the fresh night air. I laugh as my feet refuse to listen to my head. A certain intensity comes over Charles' face. I don't really know what happens next.

I think his gloved hand takes mine, and we move inside in some sort of hushed silence, knowing what's going to happen without saying anything. Everything moves in slow motion, and I can only hear the music. The lights stay off, and suddenly we're close. I don't know if we've kissed before, but we have now. Occasionally I think I start it, but for the most part I'm surprisingly restrained. Layers peel off slowly and I find myself somewhat surprised. His chest is the perfect place to lay my head.

His lips find mine once more and after sometime I make my way out the door.