“i don’t like… crabs,” i say. the rock skips on the water four times.
“your star sign is cancer,” you say. the rock skips once.
“it is both terrible in name and in form, correct,” i say. the rock skips twice.
the lake at our feet is gentle and too cold but we both keep bending to touch it in an odd ritual. we are taking turns throwing rocks at water, but, like, horizontally. i chatted about surface tension for an hour before this.
“crabs aren’t bad,” you say, “they could make great hairdressers.”
you and i bend to pick up the same rock. i try not to act like your touch is a shock, but i fumble it. i don’t know if you notice. i press my palm to my chest.
“crabs….. freak me out,” i say. my cheeks feel red. i tell myself it’s from the wind. you bend to flick the stone and your shoulder brushes me. i tell myself it’s because we’re both in big coats and not familiar with our new sizes.
you don’t move to be further. i don’t move either, but then i feel weird, so i pick up a rock. it skips three times. “they’re hard spiders,” i say, “crabs are…. bad.”
you laugh at that. it’s just you and me and the pine trees and this big rock beach and this big skipping-rock lake and your laugh, ringing. it sounds so beautiful out on the air.
“you’re a lesbian,” you say, “i’d think you like crabs,” you turn and hold up two gloved fingers, snipping the space in front of my nose, “scissors.”
i laugh too. you’re so close. our breath is steam. your cheeks are flush. i always forget that i’m taller than you, just by a little. i think about how small you are, how easy it would be to wrap you in my arms. “you’re so tiny,” i say, trying to joke with a tight throat, “i could suplex you into this here water. skip you like a rock.”
you bring yourself close to my chest, wrapping your arms lazily around my shoulders. i pretend my heartrate doesn’t sky rocket. “i’d like to see you try it,” your voice is low and your breath is warm and your head is tilted back, just a little, just enough to show off that jawbone and smirk, that knowing grin.
your eyes are dark with something i can’t name and my pulse is racing and your fingers are resting on the flat of my shoulder blades and you bring your face so close to mine and i can’t help that i glance to your lips because you’re here and real and my heart skips and skips and skips and i can’t stop thinking about just one kiss just one kiss
you lean in and whisper, “i’d like to see you try it.”
kianamaiart
areudirty
