Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

He doesn’t break like I want him to. But he does grin mischievously. His eyes crackle with humor, pulling me in at a concerning speed. I’d be frustrated if his expression wasn’t so damn intriguing. Something about his amusement signals that, perhaps, he’s one step ahead of me.

I don’t try to force my body to be something or deprive it of pleasantness. It just is. And I like it, enough, as is.

“Okay, if we start now, we can make it through the extended edition of Fellowship of the Ring before midnight.” “Midnight?” I ask wearily. “How long is it?” “It’s probably better that you don’t know.”

“If our goal is platonic…could you do me a favor?” “Sure?” I ask, obvious confusion overtaking my voice. “Could you keep it down? At night?”

He notices, his lips twitching up just a little. “Old house, thin walls. Beautiful moaning coming from down the hall that makes me want to pull my hair out.”