We are a spectacle, and only I am in control.
The bell has rung, and there are students going off in every which way, towards waiting parents in idling cars and transit bus stops at the school yard's edge.
We're at the center of it all. They all revolve around us. Their eyes are like stars, glittering past in scintillating envy.
My left hand is on his thigh. My right hand reaches up, across his back, to grasp the back of his head. It's a wild, lip-locked embrace.
Everyone wishes they were one of us.
And for once, I feel alive. Almost. Not quite yet.
I'm waiting for a shooting star. The one star that will pass the closest. The one star that will burn the brightest. His eyes will catch us at the corner, his head will double-take and his whole body will spin around to stop and look. And when his senses confirm what he sees, he'll run.
Eff, you will burn out like a candle. Love will be your fuel, but despair and envy will be the fire that eats you up inside.
"Ohhh, Onley," he moans in my ear.
I can't even remember his name. I'm just pretending. This is just an act. This man who mashes himself against me, now, is but a tool. Just like the pills. I don't love them. I don't love him.
There's a guy looking at us, now. I'm sad, it's not Eff.
"Eff!" he says, calling to the man in my arms.
That's why I chose him. He looks so much like Eff. But he's not.
"Eff!!" he calls at us, as if he's in mortal peril. "What the fuck are you doing?"
The man who's dry-humping me withdraws his tongue from my mouth, turns around and yells, "Eff? Eff off, you faggot!"
When he sees my man's face, he realizes his mistake, and reacts so strangely that I bit my tongue.
He visibly sighs of relief, as if whatever had him so upset is now gone. Then, words tumble out of his mouth, "Sorry, man, I thought you were someone else."
The man resumes the gyration of his hips, and smiles at me in such a way that pains me. And in the corner of my eye, I can see his free hand giving the finger to Eff's friend.
Then, that hand moves to my back. His tongue goes back to my neck, and I make fake noises as I watch the dwindling crowd with vigilance.
I'll take the later bus if I have to.
Where is Eff? Where are you, Eff? Come see!
Cold metal against my back. That's the railing. And his hand, further up my spine, flirting with the touch of my bra-strap through my shirt. The possibilities make me angry. A tool should only do what it's meant for!
I realize, all of a sudden, that I am no longer in control.
It is at this precise moment that fate chose to let Eff grace us with his presence. One step, then another, he rounds the corner.
And that little bugger from before moves in like a hawk, blocking my line of sight.
Seconds pass, they talk, but it feels like longer. I can feel tumescent flesh against my thigh, through his jeans and mine.
They're talking. And then, I see the brat pull Eff by the arm off in another direction. Eff turns, for a second, and sees us.
He spins around on his heels, standing in the mud.
"Hi Onley!" Eff calls to me, "See ya later, gotta run!"
And that no-good son-of-a-bitch pulls on Eff's arm again like a child heading to the candy store.
I stop moaning. Eff is gone and turned away. I'm baffled. No reaction.
"Peter, get off me."
He complies, "Who's Peter?"
I scowl, "Shutup."
He frowns, "I've been used, haven't I?"
He's smarter than I thought.
"I'll tell you who's Peter. Yours! -- it's too small!"
Secretly, I assume it's a lie that I just told. So, I pick my bag off the floor, seething, and run towards the door of the school.
"It's Pierre, you bitch!"
I'd rather wait for the next bus than risk being anywhere near Eff on that crowded one.