Dimitris

September 20th.
...
Sometimes, I have the impression that he feels the same way.
Then I remember who he is.
And I remember who I am.
And I hope it's just a figment of my imagination.
If we had made plans, maybe the timing wouldn't have been so perfect.
As soon as I reached the main street, I spotted Aris leaving the dance school, with her phone in hand, probably requesting a ride.
She looked up, likely hearing the sound of my bike, and seemed surprised when I stopped in front of the sidewalk where she was.
“If you have a car, why do you always use Uber?” I asked as I took off my helmet.
“Because I know I’ll always be too tired to drive, and... Damn, what are you doing here?”
My random question was precisely to avoid that query. Clearly, it wasn’t effective.
“I came to see if you needed a ride. Finished your rehearsal early today?”
“I think I got everything right and I’m pretty tired. But... I thought the arena performances usually went until dawn.”
“I decided to stop early today too. I’m pretty tired, although I definitely didn’t get everything right.”
“Did something happen?” She seemed concerned, almost like she could sense that I wasn’t okay.
I handed her my helmet and changed the subject.
“If you’re tired, we should leave soon.”
She agreed, putting on the helmet and getting on the back of the bike.
This time, she seemed a bit more comfortable with the ride than the first time I offered her a motorcycle ride.
Not only did she wrap her hands around my body, but she also rested her face against my back. It was almost like a hug.
The best hug in the world, as Iris would say.
I stood still for a few seconds, realizing I could feel her heartbeat against my back. She once told me that it was what made her feel alive.
It was strange... but her heartbeat at that moment made me feel the same way.
I revved the engine, and we made the short trip to the dorms in silence. I stopped in front of the main entrance, and she took off the helmet and got off the bike.
I also got off, turning to face her, leaning against the vehicle.

Her eyes shifted to the tattoos on my arm, and she brought one of her hands to them, gliding her fingertips over the birds inked on my skin. That touch caused me physical reactions that were anything but appropriate.
“The bird symbol...” she said. “Did you get this tattoo for the Free Bird?”
“No. I created the Free Bird because of the tattoo. And I got the tattoo at fifteen, because of a song with that name.”
“Free Bird?” she asked. “Who’s it by? I don’t think I know it.”
“It’s pretty old. It’s a 1970s rock song by an American band called Lynyrd Skynyrd.”
“I don’t think I know it. Are you a fan of old rock?”
“My dad was. This was one of his favorite bands. And I think this song says a lot about me.”
“So, the tattoo is a tribute to your dad?”
“No. It’s about me, not about him.”
“About a part of you influenced by him. So, it’s also about him.”
“I’m not much for honoring the dead. It’s not like they can see or know.”
“I think when you honor the dead, it’s not for them to see or know, even if someone believes there’s something after death. It’s more about... connections. That’s what I felt the year before last when my moms took me to Turkey. The country where my biological mom was born. I felt connected to her in some way. I hope that, someday, when that war ends, I can also visit Syria.”
“You mentioned you were a baby when your biological parents died. So you don’t remember them. Maybe that’s why that connection brings you more joy than pain.”
“Don’t you feel good about things that connect you to your dad or your brother?”
“I avoid them. Like the devil avoids the cross. I don’t talk about them. I don’t look at pictures. I don’t dwell on memories. Even the song that inspired my tattoo, I’ve never listened to it again.”
“Have you thought that maybe connections help you cope better with loss?”
“You don’t understand, Aris. I was there. I still have nightmares about the impact of the crash, about the sound of my brother’s cries. I don’t know and don’t want to learn to cope with it. ...I think you’d better go up to the dorm. You must be tired.”
“...Yeah, I am.” She handed me the helmet. I took it, but she stood there, looking at me. “You seem different.”

I knew exactly why. It had been a few days since I’d stopped drinking and using anything, and despite the physical exhaustion, I was surprised to find that my body didn’t miss it as much. It was always more about my mind, but I also no longer felt the need to stay chemically altered most of the time.
The only addiction I seemed to have was the need to see Aris.
But that had to stop.
“It’s your imagination,” I replied. “Don’t you need to rest?”
“Do you want me to go now?”
Damn... I definitely didn’t want that. And she shouldn’t be teasing me like that.
“What I want doesn’t matter, Aris.”
“Not even if I want the same thing as you? How long are we going to keep pretending we don’t want to kiss again, Dimitris?”
Aris placed her hand on my arm again and took another step closer. She was playing with fire once more.
And as much as I knew that the right thing to do was to ignore her and simply leave, she was right about what she said. I wanted to kiss her again. A hundred times over. And being so close to her made it impossible to pretend it wasn’t happening.
I brought one of my hands to her face, sliding my thumb over her skin. I leaned in a little more, getting closer.
But a moment of clarity made me stop, my lips just inches from hers.
And she was the one who closed that distance, standing on her toes and reaching my mouth with hers.
And there, I lost everything again. All reasoning, all prudence...
All the pain...
Our tongues met eagerly, and I wrapped my hand around her waist, pulling her body close to mine, making it clear to her how much I desired her, how much I yearned to have her completely.
If our first kiss on the beach had been soft and delicate, this one was its complete opposite. It was intense, thirsty, urgent.
Then, once again, I was struck by a surge of consciousness. Someone needed to be prudent here. And I never imagined that, out of the two of us, I would end up taking that initiative.
Because I knew myself well and understood that nothing I touched could stay whole for long. And most of the time, I didn’t care in the slightest.
But I cared about Aris.