Thursday, February 28, 2008

If you read this before, now you know it's me. (I hope you're not dead, Patrick.)

I’m lying on his bed facedown and breathing in his smell and I love it. I fucking love it. Even the smell of those silly clove cigarettes he smokes.

We are both fully clothed.

I turn my head and look away from him. There’s a bloodstain on his pillow three inches from my face and I wince.

“You have to stop piercing your ears. Isn’t seven times enough?”

He laughs. I’m exhausted. We’ve been tussling, tangling, writhing, wrestling on his bed for two hours. Door closed. His mom just up the stairs.

He crawls over the bed until he is on top of me. A six foot tall boy nearly grown into his broad shoulders.

He grabs my wrists and presses them to the mattress. I smile. He’s not done playing yet.

“Tell me you love me,” he says.

Before I can answer, he has both of my wrists caught over my head with one of his hands. His free hand slides down my side to my waist. I know he will tickle me senseless.

He pauses. Waiting.

I rebel and try throwing him off me but he outweighs me by pounds and pounds and he’s far more strong already than I’ll ever be. I begin laughing.

He leans his head down to mine. I go still.

“Shhh…you wouldn’t want my mom to come in, would you?”

We stay like this for half a minute. I’m panting. I can feel his heartbeat against my back. It’s racing.

“Come with us Friday night. I swear the bars over there are safe. The worst part is walking back over the border but I’ll watch out for you. I always do.”

“Will Cindy be there?”

I feel him smile, his lips touching my neck now.

“She’s my girlfriend. You know she’ll be there.”

I frown and wonder how many times he’s fucked her on this bed.

“Don’t you dare pout.”

His hand tightens on my wrists and he gives them a hard, little shake.

“You know I love you. Long before her, I loved you.”

His hand moves away from my waist and carefully pushes a lock of my hair from my face.

“I’ll always love you,” he whispers.

My resolve rolls away from me as it always does with him. His grip loosens around my wrists and he rolls over on the bed. Facing me with a knowing smile.

I’ve just turned sixteen years old and he’s seventeen and I’m still a virgin and my panties are soaking wet.

Monday, February 11, 2008

That cough isn't productive yet. Is it?

I'd wake up hours before him everyday. It didn't matter when I went to sleep. Four different 4-star hotel rooms in less than a week and every fucking morning the sick, gray midwest light slid around the curtain to greet me. Sometimes I walked over to the window and sometimes I didn't. I was too lazy to put clothes on and a little shy about peeping around the curtain.

He hates it but I like to watch him sleep. Years slip from his face and I know the man he was when he was 22. I think up my dirtiest fantasies when I watch him sleep in the mornings.

In the night, it's all different. I hate when I wake up in the night and cling to him and he sleeps and he sleeps. I feel divided from the outside and alone because he's turned away from me. On his stomach with a million pillows. I have to be careful because he's one of those boys who tends to wake up ready to fight and I want to keep my nose unbroken and lovely.

But, if I'm careful, I can wrap most of myself around him or next to him and breathe the best part of a boy. Where his neck and shoulder meet. I try to feel like I'm not the only one up in the entire world but it unsettles me when I'm so awake and touching so much of him and he sleeps on and on and on. Dude, why do you feel so far away from me then?

Occasionally, if the girl gods shine on me, he wakes in the middle of the night and he holds me. He tells me how small I feel to him. How little I am.

Back in the hotel, I woke up remembering him holding me in the night and it's terribly, terribly girly but I really smiled about that shit on those silver mornings.

I know for a fact he's totally asleep while I'm writing this and he's been asleep for hours. I'm several states away from him and my night has been a bit pathetic for those reasons.