Feeling: sleepy
Listening to: Audioslave - If You're Free
Reading/Watching: homework

My hands were shaking. Mainly because I was scared to death, but too exhilirated to run away. The resultant adrenaline raced through my veins and began to make me feel cloudy and faint.

His hands were steady, twining fingers in mine, slowly guiding my wrists back, back, against the wall, as his lips educated my own inexperienced mouth, as I prayed I was doing it right... and then lost all coherent thought the instant his breath crossed my cheek and centered under my jaw.

There. *That's* what people have been telling me about. I sighed, and he chuckled softly, and whispered, "Say something in French."

"I... huhwhat?"

"Anything. You have such a beautiful voice." He nipped my earlobe, and I shivered.

It took a moment to collect my thoughts well enough to form words in *any* language. His kisses returned to my pulsepoint, and sounds stumbled out of my mouth.

"Je... je suis ton papillon."

...and holy shmoo. Now that's not your average fell-asleep-over-homework dream.

Haven't dreamed about him since... well, since that time I found that shirt.

Parts of him continue to fade, since it's been nearly a year, but I still remember how, once I'd translated that stammering attempt at fran�ais for him, he would often smile and touch my hair and call me his butterfly.

No clue why he's on my mind again, after all this time, except for the fact that I saw Underworld yesterday (and it was good! whee!), and something about Scott Speedman's expressions (and that hair... God that hair...) reminded me of Harry. Although admittedly, a dripping-wet rockstar-hair Scott is definitely much, much prettier than my first boyfriend.

It's funny, because ol' Scotty never really did it for me when he was the raspy-voiced, sweater-wearing college boy on Felicity. But let him grow his hair out and put him in a rainstorm... mmm. So pretty. Want-to-touch.

Tonight is the first night of the Jewish holidays, so I'm off to sing with the choir for Selichot. If I do well, I might even get this job again next year. Wish me luck.

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