PIEL DE MIEL

summer of 1996

3rd june ; 96
there was a little pond that i found that hadn't dried up under the california sun. i had been going to it for weeks, not telling my mama. i would bike there every monday and thursday after dinner. as long as i kept biking through the brush, i knew i would get there. i would leave my bike somewhere near the rocks and roll my jeans up to my knees. i'd take off my shoes and socks and dip my feet into the mossy water. i'd lay back and look at the yellow-going-on-pink sky and just let the green blades run through my fingers. i'd listen to the leaves dancing in the breeze, the crickets chirping, and me rubbing my legs together at the chill. i'd stay there until the sun was nothing but a speck of orange paint on a navy canvas.

it was a monday, a particularly more chilly one than usual. (if 80° could be considered chilly.) my papa was being more truthful than usual today. let my sister know how he would appreciate if she act less "all that". let my momma know how it would be better if dinner could be done and waiting for him on the table when he got home. i decided i didn't need to hear what he thought of me (it was already burned on the walls), and i biked to the pond.

i remember while i was making it through the ferns, i smelled something bitter, contrasting with the sweetness of damp grass and orbiting of the sun. i got there and saw you submerged in the pond. the water sloshed at your shoulders, your narrow shoulders that were more kissed by the sun than i could ever wish to be. you had your arms stretched out beside you, fingers swirling patterns in the mud on the bank. your head was resting against the wet grass, thrown back, eyes barely closed, your chest rising and falling and the green water licking your collarbones.

i didn't want to interrupt you, you looked so tranquil. i tried to leave, tried to go back and get my bike, but the twig i snapped under my bare feet (it hurt like a motherfucker) alerted you. you opened your eyes and slowly brought your fingers up to the marlboro hanging from your lips. you inhaled deeply before plucking it from your teeth's hold and lowering your head so you could look at me, actually look at me.

you smiled a warm and lazy and sharp smile. my heart started pounding and i barely heard you ask why i was just standing there. i shifted on the wet dirt with my fingers tingling, and you raised your eyebrow. "well?" you asked, marlboro being fiddled between your fingers, "you want a hit?"

it was about seven minutes later. "i'm nico," you said, after laughing when i coughed violently from a drag of the cigarette. my feet dangled in the water, making little ripples with my rolling ankles. you took the cigarette from my fingers, wet skin brushing against my own, before taking the last long drag the stick would allow. you put it out in the mud, and you spent a whole cricket's chirp just looking at the crushed ash.

"i'm austin," i replied too late, you were already occupied with hauling yourself out of the water. the moss clung to the small of your back, just like my eyes. you laid back down on the grass, the setting sun glistening on your wet chest and inadvertently drawing my eyes to your ribs. you drew your arms behind your head, and closed your eyes again. your chapped lips parted to let your tongue peek through. faerie flies flowed in the sun's path to the valleys of skin—the hollows of your ribs. my cheeks went red when i realized i was staring.

we didn't talk much. i didn't know you could speak without using words. i would stare at you, and you would look at me, smiling with your eyes, me smiling with my teeth, you going back to tracing the sun's journey through the sky from behind your eyelids. you lied there and i sat there until the moss on your calves was becoming a home for the ants. i stood, wiping the backs of my thighs with my fingers that tasted of ash.

"i come here every monday and thursday," i told you when i was about to disappear into the green. my blood was singing in my ears when you replied, sitting up onto your elbows and your skin stretching like silk across your stomach, wearing a warm and lazy and sharp smile, "i'll be waiting."

//
okay without a doubt
i'm making more parts
to this, but question,
should i just publish
another book to put
this short story in??
would y'all read it if
i did?? let me know
babes <3