He comes with this soft little groan, like he’s afraid to make too much noise. Like it’ll send the wrong sort of message. I follow, a shivery tingle racking my whole body. It’s not a big one, but it’s a first for me. We’re still for a few moments, floating in that awkwardness that I revel in, and then he climbs off and out of me. He is silent, and I know it’s because he can’t think of what to say, other than “This was a mistake” Then, gently, he leans down and plants a lingering kiss on my lips, and I’m blissful for a few moments cause I know he hates kissing, but I pull away, and ruin it.

“What are you doing?”

It wasn’t even a french, and that worries me. He shrugs, ignoring the question, and I smile, giving him a short kiss, just to show him I didn’t mind. He doesn’t kiss back. I sigh.

“I need a shower”

So I go take one. And when I come back, he’s got this cigarette hanging from his dull-red lips, and his hair is so beautifully mussed, and he offers me a drag, even though he knows I can’t really handle his brand, but I take a drag anyhow, and only cough and tear-up a little. And he gives me this gentle smile that no one else ever gets to see. And I wonder if this is really enough for me.

“I should probably go…”

I know it’s late, and if I don’t go now, Mom will have a panic attack when she comes home, and finds that I’m not in bed, but I just sit there, staring at his bright red guitar on the other side of the room, and remember the time he played it for me, saying “This is the part where I seduce you with my music” and I had laughed.

But I look over at him now, and it’s like I don’t know who seduced who any more, because we don’t talk about it. We don’t talk about anything any more. And I do something I haven’t done sense before this all started, I put my arm around his waist, and lean up against him. And I didn’t expect it, but he wraps his arm around my shoulders, and it’s like we’re friends again, though we’ve never really been friends, not really. “Or” he starts slowly “you could stay”

I’m silent for long time, before I get up, and I know he thinks it’s because I’m leaving, but actually I just pick up my cell phone, and go into the kitchen. I thank whatever God or gods exist when it’s my mother’s voice mail, and I leave a bullshit message about hanging out at the library, and then some other random place that doesn’t close so early, and not wanting to ride home at night, so I’m spending that night at a friend’s, and should be home early tomorrow morning. I know I’m going o catch hell for it, and also, that she may not even check her messages, so will freak out anyhow, but I’m sick of caring.

Just sick of caring.

And when I come back into the living room, he’s on his second, or maybe third, fag, and somehow that makes me smile. And that night, we sleep together. Really sleep, side by side, cuddling, like. And it’s a first for me…

And him too, I think.

END