he realizes his staring isn't making it any easier on her. She hesitates on the stairs, fixes her kimono, and steps down another step. When she reaches the last one, he kneels and slips the geta on her feet. She kicks him with one as punishment for making her feel as awkward as she had and he laughs, then kisses her ankle and watches the ring on her middle finger shine.
Her mother laughs, mentions what a cute couple they make, and takes a picture before she ushers them out.
“... for marrying me, I guess.”
“Why would you ever thank me for something like that? I've always wanted to.”
she's above him, pink staining her cheeks and a rogue beam of setting light moving through the brown of her tousled hair. She's beautiful, he thinks. His balls ache from the force of her kick, her tiny hands pinning his shoulders against the ground don't help, but she's beautiful. Their breath mingle and dance in the air for one second, two –
on the third, he kisses her. The scenery switches to his room – still as cold as the outside had been – and she's letting her fingers drift down her school jacket. The buttons slip from their holds easy, and he feels his breath tighten in his chest. This isn't the first time he's dreamt of something like this, but it's the first time she's been on him (against him) instead of just out of reach. The jacket comes off, as does her blouse, and he begins to shake when she places her hands on his shoulders again and grinds, really grinds, against his lower half. The ache is different now, and he groans as she works her skirt off against him – works him off with the friction of it, stopping when her hips and legs free themselves of the restrictive clothing. Her underwear's cuter than he imagined (last time), and he reaches up to take her hair out of its little curls.
she helps him, running her fingers through it to help it straighten, and he lets his hands settle comfortably on her hips. She shifts again, lower, to get his pants off and
he wants to tell her to stop – that this isn't how the mary he knows would get him off. How she wouldn't be so quiet or so happy – how she'd berate him, then kiss them (maybe?), but never would she smile and dig her nail under his underwear, draw it back and pucker her lips against his
she's married (not to him) and he's married (never to her) but sometimes, when he looks out the window, he thinks of her and the way she smiles and feels his heart squeeze, as if he had never stopped being in love with her.
Her fingers dig into his hair, her legs squeezing around his head. He laughs and looks at the ground, watching the puppet dance on the ground. He reaches up and secures an arm around her waist, even though it messes up what they've been working on achieving, and smiles up at her.
“I won't let you fall, I promise.”
there is nothing you can say that will lessen the anger of a woman you've walked in on changing – not even if she's your girlfriend.
“why do you capitalize some words but not others?”
“its to show theyre more important!!! thats why I always capitalize your name, Mary.”
madlibs are more fun when you're doing them with the names of your friends and their crushes. Not so much when it happens to you.
“so the great and mighty sheep is defeated by a cockroach!”
“not quite, but it'll do.”
that's all she needs, and it's all she's ever wanted.
