If I had tonight to do again, for once in my life I'd trust myself.
I'd believe my initial instinct—the lilt in her voice when she said goodbye was her way of asking me to take the first step. I wouldn't smile, say goodbye too and hide my insecurities in that tepid fraternal hug.
Instead I'd lift her chin, and press my lips softly to hers. The tip of my tongue would tease at the front of her teeth when her lips parted ever so slightly, but no further: the delicate, tentative tease of a first kiss that promises many more explorations to come.
She would taste like cinnamon, and the spice would linger on my lips long after she'd walked up the steps to her apartment. The slowly fading tingle would remind me that she'd actually been there.
...if only I had tonight to do over again.