We spent Christmas Day cuddled by the fire, talking about what we would do when we returned home. 

Do you want to stay in Grand Forks?” I asked you.

“Where else would I go?” You replied with a gleam in your eye.

“Well, it's my hometown, but it doesn't mean I have to stay there forever. I'll go wherever you are, wherever you want to go.”

“Really?” You asked, the gleam in your eye getting brighter.

I nodded.

“I love England, but I don't necessarily have to move back there either. It's just a place – I don't have any family left.”

“I want to go to college, though,” I told you. “Maybe I'll become a teacher...I don't know. I haven't put a lot of thought into what I want to do with the rest of my life yet. I was just planning on getting my prerequisites out of the way first and then I'd see where life led me. But I think college is important. Did you ever want to go to college?”

“When I was much younger maybe. But I guess my life hasn't been quite normal, so that fell to the wayside. I'm open to it, but I didn't mind my job in Grand Forks.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I was a handyman, basically. I can fix a lot of things,” you chuckled. “That has helped me immensely with fixing up this place.”

“I promise you, Zayn, that no matter what we do, I will stay with you.”

Your eyes held a new warmth when I told you that, like it was sinking in that I was sincere about my love for you.

You went to the book closet and came back with a small, leather-bound book. You sat next to me and flipped it open so we could both see it. The pages were written in your handwriting, which I recognized from your journal, but they were meticulously crafted, so the beauty of the penmanship matched the beauty of the words.

“Read this,” you said, pointing to the passage where you wanted me to start. 

I cleared my throat and began. 

“Beloved: 

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth—
    for your love is more delightful than wine.
Pleasing is the fragrance of your perfumes;
    your name is like perfume poured out.
    No wonder the young women love you!
Take me away with you—let us hurry!
    Let the king bring me into his chambers.

 While the king was at his table,
    my perfume spread its fragrance.
My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh
    resting between my breasts.
My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms
    from the vineyards of En Gedi.”

 I read eagerly, completely enraptured by the beautiful words. 

“Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest
    is my beloved among the young men.
I delight to sit in his shade,
    and his fruit is sweet to my taste.
Let him lead me to the banquet hall,
    and let his banner over me be love.
Strengthen me with raisins,
    refresh me with apples,
    for I am faint with love.
His left arm is under my head,
    and his right arm embraces me.
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you
    by the gazelles and by the does of the field:
Do not arouse or awaken love
    until it so desires.

My beloved spoke and said to me,
    “Arise, my darling,
    my beautiful one, come with me.
See! The winter is past;
    the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;
    the season of singing has come,
the cooing of doves
    is heard in our land.
The fig tree forms its early fruit;
    the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
Arise, come, my darling;
    my beautiful one, come with me.”

I stopped and looked at you. I'm sure my face was on fire, but it wasn't from embarrassment. I had never read such erotic poetry and I could feel the passion coursing through my veins.

“Who wrote this?” I asked, still mesmerized.

You chuckled and said, “You might not believe me.”

“Who?” I demanded. “Did you write it, Zayn?!”

Then you laughed out loud and answered, “No! it's from a book in the Bible called Song of Songs.”

I looked at you like you were insane. “This is in the Bible?!” I asked in shock.

“Yeah. What you read was the beloved, speaking about her lover. But this next part is told from the perspective of the lover, speaking about his beloved.”

Then you began reading from the book as I held it:

“Lover:

You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride;
    you have stolen my heart
with one glance of your eyes,
    with one jewel of your necklace.
How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride!
    How much more pleasing is your love than wine,
and the fragrance of your perfume
    more than any spice!
Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride;
    milk and honey are under your tongue.
The fragrance of your garments
    is like the fragrance of Lebanon.
You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride;
    you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.
Your plants are an orchard of pomegranates
    with choice fruits,
    with henna and nard,
    nard and saffron,
    calamus and cinnamon,
    with every kind of incense tree,
    with myrrh and aloes
    and all the finest spices.
You are a garden fountain,
    a well of flowing water
    streaming down from Lebanon.”

You gestured for me to read the words of the beloved.

“Beloved:

Awake, north wind,
    and come, south wind!
Blow on my garden,
    that its fragrance may spread everywhere.
Let my beloved come into his garden
    and taste its choice fruits.”

I felt sure that a fever was burning within my body. The words were so sensual; I still couldn't believe that this was from the Bible. We continued taking turns, you reading the parts of the lover and myself reading the parts of the beloved. 

“Beloved

My beloved is radiant and ruddy,
    outstanding among ten thousand.
His head is purest gold;
    his hair is wavy
    and black as a raven.
His eyes are like doves
    by the water streams,
washed in milk,
    mounted like jewels.
His cheeks are like beds of spice
    yielding perfume.
His lips are like lilies
    dripping with myrrh.
His arms are rods of gold
    set with topaz.
His body is like polished ivory
    decorated with lapis lazuli.
His legs are pillars of marble
    set on bases of pure gold.
His appearance is like Lebanon,
    choice as its cedars.
His mouth is sweetness itself;
    he is altogether lovely.
This is my beloved, this is my friend,
    daughters of Jerusalem.

“Lover:

How beautiful you are and how pleasing,
    my love, with your delights!
Your stature is like that of the palm,
    and your breasts like clusters of fruit.
I said, “I will climb the palm tree;
    I will take hold of its fruit.”
May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine,
    the fragrance of your breath like apples,
   and your mouth like the best wine.

“Beloved

May the wine go straight to my beloved,
    flowing gently over lips and teeth.
I belong to my beloved,
    and his desire is for me.
Come, my beloved, let us go to the countryside,
    let us spend the night in the villages.
Let us go early to the vineyards
    to see if the vines have budded,
if their blossoms have opened,
    and if the pomegranates are in bloom—
    there I will give you my love.
The mandrakes send out their fragrance,
    and at our door is every delicacy,
both new and old,
    that I have stored up for you, my beloved.

If only you were to me like a brother,
    who was nursed at my mother’s breasts!
Then, if I found you outside,
    I would kiss you,
    and no one would despise me.
I would lead you
    and bring you to my mother’s house—
    she who has taught me.
I would give you spiced wine to drink,
    the nectar of my pomegranates.
His left arm is under my head
    and his right arm embraces me.
Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you:
    Do not arouse or awaken love
    until it so desires."

When we finished reading, my breathing was heavy and my cheeks were still hot. I'd had crushes on boys before and I had kissed a few guys. But I had never in my life felt the kind of passion that was ignited in me while we read those words.

I looked at you and you had lazily rested your head on the arm of the loveseat, watching me through drowsy eyes. I knew, in that moment, that you would be the one to take my innocence, not by force, but because I was going to freely give it to you. And that was because I trusted you more than I'd ever trusted anyone else in my life. I wasn't ready yet, but I knew that it would only be a matter of time. 

Even though I hadn't grown up in a Christian home, I had always wanted to wait until I was married before I gave away my virginity. But at least now, I knew to whom I wanted to give it.

I wanted it to be you and only you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The passages from Song of Songs (or Song of Solomon) are as follows:

Song of Songs: 1:2-4, 12-14 

Song of Songs 2:3-13 

Song of Songs 4:9-16

Song of Songs 7:7-13 

Song of Songs 8:3-4