It was a weekend, I took him out for lunch to a pub that sits on a point overlooking the bay. A beautiful spot on a hill, the islands in the distance.
It was warm, sunny.
He got us drinks, ordered the food, and came back to me.
We were sitting side by side in chairs on the lawn looking out over the water, talking softly and laughing about nothing in particular. I had one leg draped over his, his hand rested on my thigh.
I grabbed his head and pulled it to me and bit it, not his ear, his head. Because. Just because. It made us both laugh and he shook like a dog afterwards.
He said he wished that he could take this moment right now and write it down exactly how it was, to capture and keep it. He touched parts of me that he wanted to describe in detail to preserve them. My bare arm with light coloured hairs catching some sun, my knee curved over him, the weight of my leg against his thigh, my foot swinging gently, me smiling at him, us laughing together. All the corny things.
I asked him, “Why this moment?”
And he said, “Because I’m happy.”