The second the elevator doors shut closed I pushed Phoenix against the wall crashing my lips to his. He didn't hesitate and kissed me back with the same urgency pulling me closer to him.
I could blame my brazen impulsiveness on my pregnancy hormones but the truth was I just really missed him, his smell of freshly washed clothes, cigarettes and leather, his fervent kisses and unbashful straightforwardness, his cocky smiles and deep rich laughter, the glint in his opal gray eyes, the softness in his voice whenever he called me ‘Angel’, his courage, wildness,
his fierceness when it came to protecting what was his, even his foolish fearlessness and recklessness. I'd missed his strong embrace, the safety and feeling of home that his comforting arms offered. I never thought I could fall so hard for someone. Nowadays the word —love is thrown around so carelessly that its meaning and intensity have been reduced to a mechanical repetition void of emotion.
It often felt to me like a term people invented to make life sound more poetic otherwise they would fall into the cruel claws of the hopeless triviality of this world. What lead me to make such a conclusion was the lack of those passionate flutters of the heart and that giddy quiver of the soul whenever I was in the vicinity of my supposed lover, until Phoenix.
That night when he caught me in his arms was the first time my strong conviction took a hard blow and I became uncertain whether I actually had any substantial comprehension of the workings of this world.
It wasn't love at first sight. It began as an unbearable pull that was impossible to sever. It grew with every touch, tender word and hot kiss gradually tangling us into its messy vines until we became its willing prisoners no longer wanting to break free.