You, with a View

by Jessica Joyce

I was intimidated by her, so I needled her a lot.” “Needled?” “Tried to get a rise out of her,” Paul says, grinning. “She didn’t like that much.” I laugh, imagining it. “She was feisty.” “Sounds familiar,” Theo says into his cappuccino. I twist in my seat, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Feisty is the word you’d use to describe me?” He blinks innocently, and I get momentarily distracted by his long, curled lashes, the tiny freckle underneath his left eyebrow. “Can confirm it starts with an f.”

“Was my face fresh in your memory, Shep? Been staring at my LinkedIn profile picture every night?” “Please don’t project your fantasies onto me.”

“She’s gorgeous,” I sigh, running a finger over the paint, daydreaming about driving her down Highway 1 along the water with my hair flying everywhere, all of my worries and sadness whipping out of my body into the salty air. “Yeah.” His voice is low and close. I turn my head, and he’s right there, his gaze bouncing to where I’m touching his car. But I swear it bounced from my face.

LOVE THIS MICROTROPE

I have to wrap my arms around his neck. I’ll fall otherwise. It feels like I’m falling anyway.

“Don’t do shit like that again, Shepard. We’re going to be walking along much higher drops. I don’t want to watch your body fall off the side of the Grand Canyon.” If we weren’t close, I wouldn’t have heard the tremor in his voice, but we’re practically on top of each other. My eyes fly open. His head is bowed, focused on his work, his thick black lashes lying against the hollow beneath his eyes. A flush spreads across his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “I know.” When he doesn’t go on, I press, “This is the part where you forgive me.” “And if I don’t?” He lifts his chin, pinning me in place with eyes that are dark, but edged in amusement. “Then lie so I feel better.” Theo huffs out a laugh. “I forgive you,”

I catch Theo watching me. His expression is a manifestation of the way my chest feels. “What?” His mouth parts, then presses together. Then the look is gone, replaced by the sly expression I’ve—shit—missed. “You said I could look.”

He turns to me. His gaze traces the path of my ponytail pulled over my shoulder, moving up to that spot he touched with his mouth the other night. But it’s not sexual; it’s familiar. It makes me ache.

the yearning oml

My thoughts drift to that video of him and Paul at the picnic table in Yosemite, Theo’s head thrown back in laughter. I imagine what it would look like if I made him laugh like that, and how it would feel.

sometimes i can't articulate this feeling and this line made me feel so fuzzy and warm inside.