Tegan

Bradley had somehow elbowed his way into my life in a way that no other man had. He made a place for himself in one of the voids in my heart, and then resided there without even asking permission.

He had proven to me that love can find you when you least expect it, even if you’re not searching for it.

“What the fuck is this?”

I grinned. “Breakfast.”

“What’s this meat?” He lifted a piece of the turkey bacon and wagged it up and down. After a few gestures, it broke in two. He looked down at the plate. “Looks like fuckin’ cardboard.”

“It’s bacon.”

“I ain’t eating that shit, kid. Make me some bacon that comes from a pig’s ass.”

“The doctor said--”

“Fuck that doctor. He doesn’t have to eat this shit.”

I snatched the plate from his hand. “You’re impossible, Bradley.”

“Eating that shit you’re trying to feed me is impossible.”

I set the food aside, cooked four pieces of bacon, made toast, and fried two fresh eggs. After carrying the two plates to the living room, I handed him one.

“Thank you.”

I nodded. “Keep it between you and me.”

“You can count on it.”

I ate the eggs and toast, and forced myself to eat the bacon. It was terrible, and although it didn’t taste like cardboard, it wasn’t much better.

He looked up. “Awful, ain’t it?”

“Uh huh.”

He finished his food and set the plate aside. “Tell me about you and my boy. How’s it going?”

We’d been seeing each other for three weeks. Somehow, we managed to see each other every day, if even for a short period of time. I tried to remain optimistic about it, but it wasn’t easy.

Regardless, I was happier than I’d ever been in a relationship.

“It’s going good.”

“Good?” He inhaled a long breath, exhaled, and shook his head in clear disgust. “What the fuck kind of answer is that?”

“I really enjoy our time together.”

“That’s better,” he said. “But I always enjoyed my time with my coworkers. Didn’t make them special.”

“Our time is special.”

“Has he kissed you?”

My face flushed. I grabbed a loose strand of hair and twisted it in circles. “Yeah.”

His eyebrows raised. “And?”

I continued twisting my hair. Then, I giggled. “What?”

“I don’t need all the gory details, but condense how it made you feel into one word. Just one. One you’d play on the Scrabble board.”

My response was immediate. “Special.”

“Now, summarize the entire kissing experience into one word.”

Again, my answer was already at the tip of my tongue. “P-E-R-F-E-C-T. Perfect. It was the perfect kiss.”

“You know.” He raised his index finger. “Sex can be great, yet mean absolutely nothing. But a great kiss? A great kiss can’t be dismissed. A great kiss must be accepted as being exactly what it is.”

I gazed back at him with needy eyes. I wanted more. “And just what is a great kiss?”

“A great kiss is a sign.”

“Of?”

“What’s to come.” He grinned. “A great kiss is a sign of what’s to come.”

“What’s to come?” I asked, eager for more of his wisdom.

“That depends,” he said. “On whether or not you’re willing to open your heart.”

I let his response sink in. After a few moments of thought, I stood and gathered the plates.

As I rinsed the dishes, I decided he was right.

The kiss was a sign.

And, it was time to open my heart.