head in his hands,
real light bedtime vibe.
I narrow my eyes.
“Hey… you good?”
He shakes his head, snapping out of it.
When he finally lifts his head,
it’s not the same mouth I left in the kitchen.
No swollen lips or fuck-me eyes anymore.
“Yeah, nah—sorry.
“Got caught in my fuckin’ head.”
He laughs, but it dies halfway up his throat.
He grips the back of his neck,
eyes slamming into mine.
Then he inhales deep?—
“Can I—can I say somethin’?
“Just gimme a sec.”
It comes out on exhale,
his thumb brushing his brow.
This is it.
I let my guard down,
and now he’s gonna skin me
and wear my face to breakfast with his moms.
He claps once, trying to scare himself into it.
“Yeah. Fuck it—I’m sayin’ it.”
But his grin says
he knows he should shut the fuck up.
His grin also has
futureandconfessionswritten all over it.
I’m not built for that shit.
He stands, tugs at his waistband, rubs his hands together, then opens them like he’s got nothing left to hide.
