'Cause I fucking care about him.
He notices the hesitation, the way I go rigid.
And then he lets go of me.
Not all at once, but slowly
backing away from the edge of the cliff,
even if all of him wanted to jump.
He swallows.
“It’s almost five. City’s wakin’ up.
“We should dip
“before someone catches us up here.”
His smile is strained, held together by hope.
I nod because I don’t know what else to do.
Everything in me is still buzzing from his touch.
He stands first and holds out his hand.
And the second I take it,
thesecondI get to my feet,
the night stops breathing.
Because he doesn't let my hand go.
Because we can’t look away.
Because his thumb brushes across my mine.
I know this moment.
I’ve heard it before.
In the silence between a bridge and a chorus.
The part when you hold your breath.
Right before everything explodes.
“Andrew—” I rasp.
But we move at the same time.
He breathes it?—
“I can’t fuckin’ let go?—”
“Then don’t.”
