A young girl trades a night of fun for one of regret.

10:38PM 8/18/12 – free write

                He was wearing that boyish smile I loved so much. It made my fingertips tingle with electricity. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was aware of his effect on me. It was a game to him…not that I minded playing along.

                His eyes search mine and his lips purse together. He’s thinking. I try to formulate my own version of his thought process. I draw a blank. I nuzzle against his stubbly face.

 “What is it?” I whisper.

“There’s something about you that’s both new and familiar. I can’t place it, but I know it’s there.”

I don’t want to talk. So I kiss him instead. He accepts it without complaint, his hand coming to rest at my collar bone. He has an unnatural obsession with collar bone. I roll over and grab His camera off the nightstand. He chuckles.

“It’s too late, I’m tired. I can’t.”

“Then, don’t. Let me,” I insist.

He doesn’t respond. I take that as an ‘okay’ and climb on top of him, straddling his waist to get a good angle from above. He moves his hands to my bare tights.

“Your hands are usually cold, but they’re always warm when it matters,” I say, squinting behind the lens.

“Well that’s good to know,” he responds, flipping on the lamp.

“The lighting is perfect.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I like it like this – it’s natural ya know?”

“Natural. Okay. I think I got it.”

I ruffle his hair a bit and turn his head to the side. He looks at me sideways and I can’t help but to smile. His eyes are grey today. His lips are a rosy pink from all the friction caused by our kissing. He licks them absentmindedly when he notices me staring at them. Snap, zhooo. Snap snap zhoo. I adjust as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. I snap a picture of his chest, one of his stubble covered chin, one of his lips, one of his eyes. There was still a slight layer of sweat that made him glow in the soft yellow light. I push him back down onto the pillow.

“Close your eyes.”

“Like this?” he says closing one eye, and peeking out of the other.

“Close them both please.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I look at him there in the stillness. He looks so peaceful. My body warms and I find myself lying against the crook of his arm. His eyes open and I close mine. He’s humming. I’m purring. I feel his hand rubbing the top of my hair and nuzzle closer.

“Look at me,” he says.

I open my eyes. “What?”

“What, what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“The look. You have that look. The one that the guy gets in every romantic comedy when he realizes he’s falling for the girl.”

He closes his eyes again. I seize the opportunity. Snap, zhooo. He rolls over, pulling away from me. I snap a picture of his back.

“Enough with the camera Steph.”

                I place it back on the nightstand and crawl over to him. I use my lips to greet him. His shoulder blades, the back of his neck…his spine. I taste his goose bumps. He rolls back over and opens his arms. I fit perfectly. His face is pressed against my collar.

                “You smell like peppermint,” he sighs.

                “I love you too.”

                He looks me dead in the face, trying to find the right words for the thought that’s being processed in his mind. His mouth opens as if to speak, then closes.

                “You wear it well,” I say, interrupting.


                “The look. It looks good on you.”

The End

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