Confessions of a libra

Credit: Here

14.05.25

It’s just a dinner, I tell myself. We’ve done it before. Asha is coming over today. Something to do with closure and moving on. I heard myself say yes before I even really considered what I was doing. Now I’m panicking about everything. From what I’m wearing to how nervous I am. I thought I’d already done the mature thing by staying away from her. I told her then that I didn’t want to ever see her again. But now, it feels different. I can’t explain it. I’m hoping this means we can stop obsessing about the things left unsaid.

“Shit! Fuck!” I shout at the sound of the door-bell downstairs.

The earring I was trying to put on falls into the sink. In exasperation, I grab both earrings and stuff them behind the mirror in the bathroom. Maybe these earrings would just tip me over the edge. I strut to the door, forcing deep breaths to ease my tension. I’m convinced this is not happening. And if it is it’s happening to someone else. The door swings open to reveal Asha. She stands there wearing a cute white tee mid-riff with some simple blue jeans and her favourite gold layered necklaces. Looking into her chocolate brown eyes, I feel the last of my resolve simply melt away.

“Come in,” I say graciously. She hands me a stupidly large bouquet of flowers. I accept and hold back on rolling my eyes at the large display. She knows I’m a sucker for gifts. “Dinner is ready when we are. So let me know if you want to eat and-“

I’m cut off by finding her standing disarmingly close. I feel vapours of languidness overcome me. She’s always gotten into my veins a little too easily. I take a step back and blink furiously. Reminding myself that we’re just two exes, talking some shit out.

Asha begins before I can, “Food is not my priority right now. You are.”

The air is sucked out of my lungs and immediately my heart swells. I feel my inner logic restrain my heart. Easy there, tiger.

“Asha, let’s be civilised.” Is all I can manage in response. A breathy response.

Asha steps forward again, her eyes projecting hurt beyond human language. Through her eyes, I feel the weight of the world. The weight she has come into this conversation with. My breath catches. Her scent conjures memories of slow make-outs and my body responds, nipples hardening.

“I’m literally such a fucking idiot for not choosing you. Like I could actually kill myself for being so fucking stupid and reckless,” the passion in her tone, the passion in her eyes draws heat in parts of my body I haven’t felt since her.

“It’s okay, I understand that you were raised a little conservative. I knew that going in,” I mean every word.

Honesty is the best thing I can give Asha now. Honesty, then hopefully we both find some closure. Asha gently takes my hand and places it just above her left breast. Her eyes are furrow in earnest and I almost can’t bare to see it. My own heart accelerates.

“But I know I could have tried harder, now. I didn’t see it initially but I’ve honestly had time to think. To feel. To experience the empty chasm you’ve left behind…” Asha gets a far away look in her eye.

“It hasn’t been easy,” my voice cracks a little and I take a deep breath.

The feel of Asha’s chest beneath my palm grounds me in this moment. I’m no longer smelling the dinner I’ve prepared, I’m only feeling her and the energy inbetween. The familiarity. The safety. The words I’ve been truly waiting to hear.

“I can’t change what I did but if you’ll have me,” Asha steps forward. She crowds me and I accept it with every cell in my body, “I want to show you that there’s no mountain I wouldn’t climb for a little crumb of your time and attention.”

I’m overwhelmed by waves of swirling sensations seemingly overlapping. A complete sensory overload. The arousal, the surrender, the heat and the relief. She feels my yes before I express it. We kiss with fervour and nostalgia. Bouquet of flowers, tossed on the counter. I feel Asha’s tears as she kisses me back. We both giggle in mirth, forever bound.