They tell us to go fast.
Climbing this ladder we often stumble.
And where I wish to fall is into your arms.

When we’re out we stay out, so late we have to take the 3 AM bus and it’s cold.
At first the cold bothered me—my teeth would chatter, my body would shake.
But slowly I began to enjoy it because you would keep me warm.
The first time you put your arm around me I didn’t know what to do,
but before you kissed me, the night of the campfire, you told me you
liked me and I told you I liked you, too. Then it went slow.

You said “I’m not very good at this.”
But we’re getting better, and I think you’re really good at this.
You make me feel safe and comfortable and when
you looked at me after we kissed listening to the Arctic Monkeys’s
Piledriver Waltz. We were lying beside each other on your blanket
holding hands, you were looking at me the way no one ever has, and your
smile made my heart stop. I had never been so close to someone. You
were fuzzy! So I pulled my head back and that’s when I saw the look,
the smile. You’re in a band, you told me band members have this look
where they know what song they’ll play next.

You held my hand until the bus stop, I had to find my bus pass. I
looked down at my hand and opened it. You put your hand in mine. I say
it’s a good thing that it’s cold otherwise our hands would be all
sweaty and you said you wouldn’t mind. The bus was coming and I did,
we did, my bus routine. What once was a quick nervous exciting kiss was
now multiple kisses, me learning your lips.
I wanted to replay every moment, slow.

—By Caitlyn L., 20 ♦