QUILTED KISSES AND SORRYS

teeth

We weren't alone when he would take me in his arms while he still belonged to another girl. I like to believe I was oblivious, I know if someone dug down deep enough they could tell by the droplets of guilt in my eyes when he would put his arms around me.

And when our bodies clashed. I honestly thought.
Him & Her
weren't
pinned onto each other.

I could feel the bones of his ribcage poking out of his stomach and for the first time I could hear another person's heartbeat in a Florida hotel.
And now, we were alone.

I should've know with her coconut shampoo in his shower and straightener unplugged and tangled on the counter.

Maybe I was to knotted up in the idea of attraction and infatuation to pick up on the little things that mattered.

He tells me how crazy it is that we were born in the same town. I asked him if he was going to go back.

He laughed. His pearly teeth stained from years of drinking coffee and eyes a mix of memories and water.

He told me, "maybe."

With my number in his phone right above her name. With his long legs making him at least six feet tall, almost four heads taller than me.

He looks at me with those eyes. I can't look back, so I turn and look out the window. He asks why I'm in Florida. I tell him for spring break. I can feel his warmth radiating off the bed.

I can smell his cologne and the salt water dried into his fair skin. I didn't want to get into the water.
My biggest fear - water.

His skin bathed in sunscreen and a beach towel underneath the arms he rests on. I could hear the words of my friend repeating in my head from earlier as we laid side by side, sunbathing on the beach.
"Don't be fucking stupid.
We all know where this is heading."

But I can't help but think what he would taste like. Would he taste like prickly pears, watery, gooey, honeyed, like home.
Or would he taste like oranges, tangy, citric, pulpy,
like Florida.