You’re calling more often. Conversation is very informal. We still have very little to talk about. Last night, someone we knew bought a Maserati… on someone else’s bank roll. Trickin and aint got it. Ha.
“Your girlfriend is stalking me…”
“She told me someone sent pictures to the house…”
[insert a laugh]
I did threaten to do that. But I’d never do that. He knows that. She’s forcing her life. Maybe she should work for Disney, I thought. Take up painting? Her imagination is clearly wild. There’s space in our conversation. We just don’t do this very well– you know, dance to a never ending song.
We’re on borrowed time, but never in a rush to go anywhere. How is that possible?
“She’s threatened by you…”
“Why? I promise not to take you…”
[insert a laugh]
I mean, I give him back everytime, right? Why change now? How is this though? Floacist says “… because we caught Feelings.” It can’t work because it’d never work but some how we have worked it out and it’s been working. It doesn’t even feel right. It’s wrong. She blows up your phone. You tell me she’s crazy. Y’all have a family and they miss you. I have space and you want me. ::sigh:: How is that? You embrace me after I loosen my walls. Tell me you love me at the end of our calls. How though? How does this work? When will this end?
When did we decide to expose our secret instead of rocking as friends? Destiny’s Child said, “If you leave…” but you won’t. I know it. Does she know it? No. “Your girlfriend is stalking me.” Someone needs to tell her he’s not going to leave. Where you are– with her– is exactly where you want to be. Does someone need to remind me? No. I don’t want him to leave her. I don’t want to be her– especially since he loves me.
So where do we end? I loosen my walls and toss my body beside you– out of breath. Silence. Sweat. Ceiling. Steam— it was hot. Your phone blinks. Where are my panties? I wonder. She’s calling, I know. Care? I don’t. Your hand creeps up my theigh, arm wraps my hips. Your nose now presses my cheek. I bet he’s leaving…
I stop breathing.
“I love you”, he says.
My body chills. Kitten purrs with a wet nose.
Silence. Ceiling— no.