cravings;
the reflex | 1:58am | @ophelixs
under the red lights, they are almost beautiful.
shot glasses litter the bar counter before them, girl twirling the umbrella on some empty drink while boy has his cellphone out, swaying on his seat. there’s something innocent in their smiles, mischief wrapped in teeth; something less than innocuous in how eyes meet.
hungry? hating? the lights are too dim to tell.
( come morning we will know which is which but for now he can smell the cherry on her tongue and he’s certain she can see herself reflected in his eyes and they will be two hurricane things ready to make a mess of the night )
“do another spin for me sweetheart, won’t’cha? for the camera, hm?” he’s slurring his words, whiskey or rum or something equally acidic lacing the corner of his words. “one more time, f’ the records.”
visions are getting too blurry to see whether it’s a photo or a video, but to the boy, it hardly matters.
“hm, how ‘bout it, sweetheart? i’ll buy you ‘nother shot, or trade ya a kiss. whatever y’like, hm?”