Second Love

random memories;

First meeting Scott at tap-class, trying to master a basic time-step. Laughing a lot, falling all over each other, something curiously comfortable from the start, his then girlfriend suspicious from the beginning. But me not suspecting - or expecting - anything. I can be so easily blinded by a girlfriend.
Scott sharing my bed for weeks during rehearsal, the physical comfort we shared not transferring there, enjoying the closeness, but wanting more, not believing it could happen.
Making love the first time, his face covered in an oat-meal face mask.
Making love the last time, in Sydney, knowing it was the last time. Bitter sweet but cherished memory.
Talking, all the time.
The notes left on the table in the morning. I still have them.
The pride watching him on-stage opening night.
The overwhelming, overpowering ache of loving someone so much.
Holding hands.
Seeing each other after a few weeks apart, feeling everything is right with the world again.
Cooking for two.
Holding him when his world was not going right.
Being told I was loved.
Most of all, knowing I was loved.