It was an unauthorized meeting so to speak. I, married with children, he, while not married, was living with his high school sweetheart and their children. I remember a thrill come over me from seeing his message earlier that evening, inviting me to have a “quick drink”. It just so happens to be incredibly fun when we get together. Our short lived moments have always consisted of laughter. A special kind of belly ache, teary eyed, not for all, but very funny to us kind of humor that leaves me wanting more. I was looking forward to the great energy which my friend is known to deliver. I had enough time to shower and semi doll myself up for our drink. I felt good. I would go as far as saying I was feeling sexy. I arrived to find him already seated with a pint of some kind of ale. Looking as dapper as I tend to remember him. We greeted one another with a quick hug and carried onto stimulating conversation. For most of my life, I have felt strangely connected to this man. Something seems to pull us together. More than twenty years had passed since our high school days and here we were. While I prefer to keep it light and easy going, I couldn't ignore that I felt a disturbance in his force during our dialogue. Enough so that I was prompted to bluntly ask him, “are you happy?” He didn't answer. Instead, he looked profoundly into my eyes and placed a kiss on my lips. He had only done this on one other occasion, several years back, amongst a group of mutual friends. Oddly enough, no one noticed the stolen kiss, but me. It was never to be mentioned or spoken of. But I remember it. I am not quite sure what was said afterwards. I was overthinking it as I tend to do. After two or three beers, we were ready to call it a night. He walked me to my car and we said our goodbyes. I began to drive home when my phone rang. It was he. Requesting that I meet him, elsewhere. He would have to rush off somewhere to do undisclosed things but he wanted me to meet him for another “quick drink”. Since I was already in my neighborhood, I drove home and decided I would not remove my makeup. Instead, I wanted to see what might transpire. I recall my phone ringing about twenty minutes after I had arrived. It didn't take long to agree on another local watering hole. Minutes later, we were off to meet at the next destination. We walked in to find a woman heavily into her karaoke performace, belting out lyrics to “Edge of Seventeen” by Stevie Nicks. She was pretty good. I ordered a round of beers for my friend and I. Then it happened. He stood up, leaned over to my ear and whispered “I want to taste you”. Before I could ask, what exactly he meant, he was kissing me again. This time, it was notibly meaningful. It was no run of the mill kiss. It was one of those kisses that you read about. Those wherein time seems to stop. The room goes silent and we were the only two people on Earth. He kissed me with his breath, his eyes closed. There was very little tongue. Just wet enough, just gently enough, breathing into me what felt like his soul. I had never been kissed this way before. It felt magical. I remember hearing him say “I love you” while he continued pressing his lips onto mine. I said the words back to him, also, not ever separating my lips from his. He continued to explain, amidst the kissing, “you just don't know”, I smiled, I may have giggled a little bit but only from the euphoria I was experiencing at that moment. I felt drunk but not from the beers. The kiss went from the bar to outside the bar. On the city street, under neon lights. Where did it come from and why did he wait over two decades to go for it ? I didn't want it to end. What a sweet September night. I should have felt guilty but I didn't. I felt alive and loved. At one point I had to say, “we should go”. We bid eachother farewell, walked to our cars and drove away. This evening took place, several years ago. I often reminisce about it. I often wonder if he remembers the night in the way that I do. I see my friend from time to time. There is an energy. I can't put my finger on it but there is something there. What it is, I may never know.