The second our eyes locked I had one of those overwhelming moments where I breathed in too hard and the ability to exhale was lost to me. So I moved toward him with lungs over capacity and a smile spread across my face so big it hurt. I saw that his cheeks must have been in pain, too, because his smile matched mine exactly. I tried to push the breath out, but it was stuck, so I just held it in while we closed the space between us. There were no elderly people with walkers in our way, no cowboy-boots-wearing tourists with too many suitcases and fanny packs. Just a few paces and we'd be touching.
I'd waited for that moment since the day I left him at the airport in London, tear-streaked and uncertain. Now I was certain about everything: myself, him, my feelings toward him. Would it feel different to touch him again after craving it for three months? Would we take a little while to adjust to each other again like we did last time? I was getting lightheaded from holding my breath, and I prayed I wouldn't pass out and collapse at his feet.
Two more steps. One more step. His arms were around me. He squeezed me so tightly the air I'd been holding came out in one powerful whoosh. I clenched my teeth down on my Trident gum one millisecond before it launched out of my mouth and onto an innocent bystander. His strong manly arms were around my waist and my arms were around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. I nuzzled my nose into his neck, taking in his warmth, his delicious manly scent of cologne and body spray. I almost wondered if he'd stopped to freshen up because nobody smells that good after an international flight.
"Baby, I'm in Texas!" he said, still squeezing my size 12 waist until it was nearly compacted into a size 2. I wanted to kiss him, I wanted to see his face as he looked through the windows at Texas, but I didn't want to let go. And I didn't mind feeling like a size 2. "Welcome to Texas!" I said with the strongest Southern accent I could muster, not that he'd notice.
His grip loosened and he pulled me away from him to look down at me, the silly grin still stretching from ear to ear. I'd forgotten he was so tall. He swore he was only 6'2" but I think his conversion from metric to whatever jacked up system we use here in the US was a little off. He had to be at least 6'3". But it didn't take him long to swoop down from that great height and meet my lips with his. He kissed me hard and pulled me back against him with one hand on my back. It was a kiss I'd been dreaming about for months. I didn't care if we were offending anyone. I was in heaven.
After what could have been five seconds or ten minutes, he broke the kiss and pulled me away from him again.
"Babe, you look great! The transformer dress!"
I spun around, slightly aware that I might have flashed a little butt cheek.
"God, I missed you!" I said, pulling him in for another kiss.
I squeezed his bicep as we walked to the carousel to wait for his suitcase. Yes, he checked a bag. He was a boy, only staying for four days, and he checked a bag. Remember when I flew to London with 10 outfits and four pair of shoes all stuffed into my busted carry on??
He pulled his bag off the conveyer drug it behind him while I led him to the front doors.
"Ready to feel Texas heat for the first time in your life?" I asked before we reached the automatic doors.
"It can't be that bad," he said. I shrugged and pulled him out.
"Oh this is nothing," he said as we stepped into the outside world.
I didn't respond. A few more steps and we were out from under the awning, in full view of the sun.
"OK, that's hot," he said once the sun accosted every inch of him.
"So where are we going anyway? Back to yours?"
"Nope, it's a surprise," I said with a sneaky smile.
"Is it a massage? Because I could really go for a massage right now. I've been cramped in a small seat all day."
I stopped dead in my tracks. Out of all things, how could he have guessed a massage? (Only, he pronounced it MAH-ssage.) I could have been taking him to a park or my parents house, or a random cafe for a glass of wine. But he guessed massage? It was official, there was no surprising him. Not to mention he'd bought The Grand Design at the airport that morning. Just my luck.
"Yeah, actually. A couples' massage. I hate you for guessing correctly," I said, giving him my best angry face.
"Ah, I'm sorry! A massage would just be so nice right now. Thank you baby!"
We walked up to my car and I hung back for a moment, watching, amused.
"What?" he asked, with his hand on the handle.
"Oh, are you driving?"
He looked down confused and then saw the steering wheel through the window. I laughed as he shook his head and walked around to the passenger side. Damn Brits. Gotta love them.
We held hands as I drove. I never wanted to let go of him. Within second my mind was in the gutter as I pictured his hand on my naked stomach, inching south. I shook my head and snapped back to reality. I couldn't keep my eyes on the road because I wanted to see his reaction to everything. I silently cursed city officials for not making the area surrounding the airport more appealing. It's like, "Welcome to Dallas. Home of orange construction cones, green and brown patchy grass, and unfinished highways." Cool.
"It's so big!" he said as he looked out across the flat land and rolling blue sky.
I smiled and squeezed his hand. Under my breath I added, "that's what she said."