We’re having a beer at the pub, and me being me, I’m being an asshole. Other than a brief flirt at an alumni event, I hadn’t seen Kyle in about a month. I’d skipped town, and he’d facebooked me, asking to hang out while I was surfing in Central America.
“You were ridiculous,” I chide him, and grin. “You knew I was going to be gone. Are you high?”
“Well, I couldn’t.” He says.
“I couldn’t, you know, let you think you went to Costa Rica for two weeks and I didn’t care.”
I hadn’t expected that. I smile.
“Well,” – And I’m feeling bolder – “If it makes you feel any better, I did go to the mixer with the intention of flirting with you. My boss said, ‘Really? An alumni mixer?’ and I said ‘I’m gonna flirt with a guy from summer school! I have a plan!’.”
He grins. “Sealed the deal for me. Abbie Cooper’s going? Done.”
There’s a blush of something, and we’re touching under the table. And I don’t know what the hell feelings are, because it’s been so long, but I think these are feelings.
And then there’s a spark. We walk from the pub and I turn on my heels, short pressed up against him. “I think you should kiss me,” I say, “I know you want to.” And he does. He does and up on my toes I feel the universe wake up again. The power lines buzz and the punks of Venice run down main street, but there is no one else in the world, nothing but electric. Nothing at all.
“Let’s find a place.”
We sit, my bare legs across his lap, and we can’t keep our hands off each other or our faces apart. It’s bad. We know it. “We should get out of here,” I giggle, “They hate us.”. But we can’t stop. Whispering. Leaning in. He has a hand between my knees and I’m breathing onto his neck, telling secrets in his ear. There is nothing but electric. Nothing at all.
There is vodka and electric. There is sin in the air.
“Let’s get out of here.”
It’s too much, I think. It’s too much and it’s too fast. But I’m lost in the blur. I feel something. It isn’t love, but it’s something. And we should wait but we can’t wait and it’s in the darkness and – and his hand pulls behind my back, into him, and we move, quiet. Then laughing, kissing, pulling back; embarrassed, scared, unsure, but wanting.
In the morning, he asks me not to go, but I have to. Okay, I don’t have to. Okay, but I’m saying I have to because it’s too soon to act like I have nowhere else to be. He kisses me goodbye, and it’s only then I realize it’s the first time I’ve kissed an unfamiliar mouth in about four years.
The morning moves on, I visit my friends, I have my day. But I’m bursting from the inside out. At night it’s quiet, it’s dark in my room, and then I hear my phone.
“You should be here,” He says, “I would like that.”
And I try to sleep, but I can’t. There is neon buzzing in my veins. Electric, electric, electric.
There we go.