This Close To Okay

by Leesa Cross-Smith

“What color is your ex-husband’s energy?” “Slut red.” “Slut red,” he repeated.

hahaha

When his eyes met Tallie’s, he was thinking he could still be dead by morning if he wanted. Could she tell? It’d be easy. One. Two. Three.

One Direction—” “One Direction? The what…British boy band?” “Yes, and don’t try to tease me, because I have a Harry Styles mug I can legally use as a weapon.

so shes cool

noticing her pale pink toenails—Brenna’s favorite color. His eyes burned and welled; he put his head in his hands.

im guessing brenna was a sister and christine an ex??

He didn’t sign her name. The do you miss me sometimes? hovered there at the end, unpinned. Sent.

so hes MESSY

He would’ve done anything she asked in that moment. He looked at her, his new surprise friend Tallie.

giving me normal people vibes

She lived alone; there was no one there but the cats to nose through it.

whatchu got in there.....

PS: I’m coming back to town for Christmas and of course I fucking miss you, Tallie. Of course I do. You were my wife for a long time. I’ll love you forever.

as someone who has a new wife and child, im almost positive you shouldnt be saying this

Odette had grown up summering in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue with her grandparents.

the name odette is really strarting to trigger me now

Emmett let the gentle faucet water run over the steaks and patted them dry with paper towels before rubbing them with olive oil. Tallie leaned and watched. A small yellow meow from one of her cats floated across the kitchen air. Emmett turned on the stove, dropped a pale cube of cold butter into the skillet, and poured himself a glass of water as the butter warmed and sizzled.

this is so sexy to me

How had he managed to think God had forgotten about him when he was kissing and holding Tallie like this as proof of hope?

Only Emmett, Tallie, and Lionel in syzygy, aligned like an eclipse, on the nearly empty patio. Lionel, at least twenty feet away, standing alone in his masked Bigfoot costume. Lionel, nowhere near the pool, far too close to the blazing fire pit. Lionel, the right side of his body, violently torched. Lionel, consumed with fulgent orange flame. Lionel, Lionel, burning bright.

excuse me what? is mans on fire? and yall are just making out or is this just like a metaphor im not getting

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” she said. Hungry, exhausted, worried. It felt good to curse at him, to let it out. “I know I am,” he said, nodding. “It’s fucking annoying.” “I know it is, but I like when you boss me around.”

“Is this okay?” he asked before kissing her mouth more aggressively. She nodded. “Is this okay?” he asked, unzipping her skirt. She said yes. “Is this okay?” he asked, getting on his knees in front of her, pulling her skirt down. One black-stockinged foot stepping out of the circle it made was her yes. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at her. “Tell me this is okay.” “I like when you boss me around, too.” “Good girl.” He tugged at the strip of lace between her legs, moving it aside.

ok okay ok this is fine im fine

If an artist had been scritching briskly in the darkness—capturing them like the Klimt—they would’ve drawn Tallie’s bedroom, lit by one lamp. M. C. Escher’s Drawing Hands come alive, penciling Emmett watching Tallie boldly shed her lace while simultaneously limning Tallie with one hand, touching herself, wet with both of them. Tallie putting her finger between his lips, into his mouth. Tallie reaching between his legs. Emmett, at the same time, hungrily kissing her mouth and breasts. Pushing his face against her. The taste of her on his tongue again and again until the crest. Tallie, scrabbling at the comforter beneath her, writhing in a rasped blur. Tallie breathless, sitting up in a fuss and carefully placing his arms above his head before licking a warm trail down his chest. Tallie sliding beneath the elastic of his underwear and taking them off, greedily destroying him. Tallie’s body and hair and redolence pouring all over him like water, him inside and on top of and underneath her. And the artist, now finished, blowing the spent scratchings across the paper before wiping it clean. Leaning back and looking at it, completely sated. Chuffed.

this is so artsy

Rye’s obsessive mental cataloging helped him organize a world that no longer made sense. He talked to himself about what he saw and heard and smelled and thought, as if he were a playwright like Christine, forever setting the scene. It was how he kept himself from going mad.

Heard One Direction yesterday and smiled. What have you done.

oh woooow! so proud of you. good boy! Forever trying to impress you, good girl.

hm this is normal

“You have to do things when you have a chance to do them,” her dad had told her when she’d mentioned wanting to go.

“Night Changes” by One Direction

“Two Ghosts” by Harry Styles