I clear my throat. “So, you live with your aunt?”
He shifts in the seat.
“Isn’t that what you said?”
“I don’t live with her.” He folds his arms in front of his chest. “Just sort of a…”
“Visit?”
“Yeah.”
I nod, waiting for him to say more, but he doesn’t. “Visiting for the summer?”
“I guess so. I mean, I’ve been there since May, so…”
“You’re not in school?”
He shakes his head and gets really interested in his fingers.
I don’t really know his aunt. Or, rather, I know her as the lady that hangs her underpants right underneath my balcony. I’ve never made a point to say hi to her or anything. I don’t make it a point to say hi to anyone. Unless they’re watching me from afar.
I want more, though. I want to know why he’s not in school, since he seems like that type. The brainy type. Not like me, who flunked out of tenth grade, because I couldn’t pass my tests, and made up for it with other skills and the work of my hands.
But I decide not to press him anymore. “You ready?”
He nods and I start the engine.
As we drive back I think about waking up alone, but maybe sometimes finding a way not to go to bed alone. I found the last guy at a bar in the city. It took me a while to find it, but it didn’t take me long to find him. I took him home and fucked him and made sure he was gone by first light. He left nothing behind except his scent on my pillow, and I just washed it away. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again.
But I went back the following Friday. Saturday. Sunday. Then the joint was raided by the cops on a Wednesday, and when I got there a couple days later, it was shut down and I was just shit out of luck.
Story of my life.
“Did we just steal this car?” Paul asks as we pull away.
I don’t know why, maybe it’s how he says it, but that makes me laugh. “Nah.” I look over at him. “Borrowed.”
“Borrowed.” He nods. “Took out a loan.”
I snicker. “Exactly.”
And he smiles back. Hesmiles. It’s the first time I’ve seen him smile and it changes his whole face. Green meadows in those eyes and millions of particles of light in that smile, and all at once, there’s that fucking flutter again, and my stomach sinks because I know I’m a goner.
I’m done for.
Wicked desire and sinking ships.
We get back to my apartment in the late afternoon.
Things feel lighter between us. It feels like he’s holding on tighter as we ride back, but I shouldn’t be able to tell that or want to tell that. His face is flushed with excitement when he gets off the bike, his hair tousled by the wind. It makes me avert my gaze. I don’t want to stare blatantly at him, even though he kind of deserves it, but my bike is clean now. Guess we’re Even Steven.
We stand in front of the apartment building, in an awkward sort of way, me turned to go inside and Paul turned to go to the gate. But then we turn back to each other and then we turn away, he lingers, and I hate that I want him to stay.
“Your bike looks good,” he murmurs.
“It does. Thanks.”
“So, I guess,” he looks down at his shoes, now scuffed and with little drops of chrome polish on them, “I’ll leave you alone now. And…everything.”
