He nods, considering. And then all at once he’s close to me. Are our chairs this close? It’s like he’s separate, like I can see all of his details, all of his specific, individual parts, and then he’s right here, indistinguishable. A blur of smell and skin and pulse. “I’d like to kiss you,” he says. I hear it in my rib cage. “But I’m not going to unless you tell me it’s okay. I know you’re in a weird spot. I also know we’re here, and there is a very big full moon, and your lips look like watermelon. The good kind. The breakfast kind.” Wherever we are, my words aren’t here. I just find the one.
...more
