making the flame tremble.
The clove crackles when it burns, and I inhale.
“I think he loved the way you loved him,” I say finally. “That’s different.”
Celie’s next breath shudders out of her.
Then in the reflection of the storefront glass,
someone’s staring from across the street.
In the silhouette's shadow, there he is again.
I turn?—
But nothing.
Always living at the corner of my eye,
but never really there.
The paranoia eats me alive,
and I try to shrug it off again,
shake Hunter's stare out of my head,
and keep walking.
We don’t stop till the bass hits us from two blocks away.
The club’s line is long, but we move fast.
Bouncer barely looks up at us before we slip inside—spines straight, lips tasting laughter, hearts faking whole.
Inside, it smells of sex, cigarettes, and spilled vodka cran.
Celie clocks a guy next to the DJ booth,
bites her lip, and mouthsdibs…
As if I’ve ever looked twice at a man.
Then after another drink in her,
she’s spinning,
glowing,
halfway to the dance floor.
I post up at the bar, crossing my arms to avoid accidentally touching anyone, and watch Celie to avoid eye contact with anyone else.
Look at a guy?
Only takes a second,
and his dick's already halfway inside you in his head.
