“You look photo shopped in real life.”
I wanted to write about the boys that returned from my past, but he got in the way. I was planning on detailing the texture of the carpet on Brad’s bedroom floor when he laid me on it, about how his fingers felt inside me and how I shivered when he pinned down my arms. I wanted to write about the awkward head I gave my friend Drew after jerking him off with my gloves on. About Laos, who I finally kissed in his car after ten years of wondering why he didn’t get that I played Dungeons and Dragons with him only in hopes of catching his pony-tailed love.
But something more happened this week.
It’s all actually Brad’s fault, it’s him who wanted to play pool. A bad move on his part, not just because he lost.
“Were you that girl playing pool last night?”
Or maybe it was Drew’s mistake, the next night-after the blowjob-it was him who took me to that bar where I was approached.
“That was me.”
The stranger is young, with curly hair and a sharp face, like a fox.
“I was watching you play all night.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You were with your boyfriend.”
“He isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Well, I kept thinking, what a lucky guy.”
“He isn’t that lucky, I won.”
He’s wearing army green and has a tattoo of William Burroughs.
“I didn’t get Naked Lunch, but I loved Junkie,” I say, touching it.
“Because I relate to it.”
“Because I used to shoot up.”
Bad. Bad News. Run Away.
“Cool.” I say.
We hold hands and exchange compliments until Drew drags me home.
“I have a surprise for you,” he texts me, the next day. I was hoping he would, I had hoped I had dropped enough hints. “What is it?” I reply, already knowing. You know what it is. We all do. Here’s the thing, I don’t hesitate. I don’t even question myself.
So we meet at the same bar as before but we leave before finishing our drinks because I’m anxious and I can’t wait for my gift and I tell him this and he knows. So he holds my hand as he drives us home and locks us inside his bathroom. And I’m anxious heart beats and sweaty palms and tight belts and clean spoons and we’re both super smooth and it’s all sweeter than I had remembered.
We lay down a long time on his bed because I can’t stand up.
“I wanna look at you.”
My insides are heavy and delicious, as he strokes my legs, but we don’t have sex, because he can’t, so we hug until midnight.
“I feel like I’ve known you for years,” he says.
“I feel like I’m going to vomit.”
The next morning my mom wakes me up for our trip to DC and my body feels fuzzy, and she looks tired, saying, “your sister kept me up all night, she cried in her sleep.”
“She was having nightmares.” She said.
My sister drives.
My eyes are closed, feeling waves hit from last night.
“What was your dream about?”
“Nothing. It’s stupid.”
“You were dating a bad guy again.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had to save you.”
She laughs. “It was a dream.”
My body vibrates, and I check my phone.
“I have another surprise for you.”