On our second date we went to a bar by her house. Since she walked, I offered to drive her home. She took me up on the offer. On our first date there came the moment of “good night,” a moment of deciding how to conclude the evening. A hug? A kiss? Neither? All? I ended up kissing her cheek and hugging her good-bye. I felt the possibility was there for a real mouth kiss though. So here, on the second, it seemed almost certain that I’d have to make that progression to a lip kiss. But it would have to happen in the car.
No. I hate a car kiss. You’ve got the arm rest between you. You’re parked in the middle of the road, something awful playing on the radio. You have to twist your body so awkwardly, still strapped down by your seatbelt. So I didn’t make the move. I just wouldn’t settle for it. But still my mind wasn’t made-up until the very moment, so between the bar and her house my mind was entirely focused on how I’d execute the good-night.
I don’t know what I said. I have no idea what she said in those few minutes.
I do remember saying, “Soon,” when we were parked outside her place.
“Yeah?” She asked.
“Yes.” And just so it didn’t seem like I was disinterested I threw in a “You’re great. I like you.”