Slide, Revenge

Her eyes slide craftily over to mine where she knows I’m staring at her. Her pale, graceful fingers skid expertly over the arm of the boy next to her- the one she’d been with since she left me. His conversation cracks for a second as goosebumps rise reflexively over his skin, but he gains composure and shifts slightly as if nothing happened. My eyes follow her carefully moving hand like a lonely puppy watches his old master. It travels like a spider, tickling but the potential to become dangerous. Up his shirt sleeve and down, teasing. Teasing me, too.

I’m not breathing anymore, just staring at that hand and out of the corner of my eye I see her eyes glaring at me. What emotion is that in her eyes? It’s hard, glinting, satisfied with my reactions. They’re seeking revenge, but what did I do? Revenge. She’s the only one that can ever hurt me. She’s the last one that I would choose to want revenge on me, and she knows that. He’s stopped talking now, sliding his arm around her waist. She shifts to accommodate it and her eyes dart away from me to him, the emotion changing to affection and giggles, and I hope she’s faking it because I don’t know how I would live if she wasn’t.

They’re leaving now, pushing through people to reach the door. Her eyes stare back at me as he tugs on her hand, hard and icy, grimly taking joy in my obvious pain. I can breathe again, but as I watch her slip out of the room, pale arm dangling just beyond my view, my breathing now doubles, and I gasp and suddenly don’t know what to do.

What should I do with my hands? Who are you? Put my hands on you? Okay, you’re lips. They look like hers, they’re red, I think I’ll kiss them. Slide, slide, slide. Slide my hands up your torso, down your stomach. Slide, slide. Slide my lips down your neck, slide my feet over yours. Where are we going? Slide, slide, slide.

We slide through people, my hands slide over her, up her shirt, over her skin. Wish it was her. Where is she? Is she doing this, are his hands sliding over her like mine are sliding over this girl pulling me through the crowd. Are you slipping out another door as we slide from this room? I press her against the wall, sliding, sliding, sliding. I imagine you beneath my fingers, your palms flat on my shoulder blades, sliding sliding sliding down my back and goosebumps rise all over as I think of it.

But her hands are still and on my waist and her lips are like rubber, not like yours, soft and smooth and wet and passionate. There’s nothing here but sliding, sliding, sliding. And your eyes are on mine, filled with a revenge I have driven you to. And your hand, pale and smooth sliding up his arm, and my hand, rough and trembling sliding up her shirt, unbuckling her bra in front and sliding, sliding, sliding. And I think of you and I slide.