Sensual Politics

five

picture: august

05

five

~ two weeks later ~

She licked her lips, increased the pressure on the acceleration and drank in the wind that cleaved through her dark hair. One hand propped up on the window sill, she hummed the bubblegum tune from the radio station. The sunlight was dark golden through her shades but the heat was seeping into her skin even during the late evening hour.

She would have missed him if it had not been for the new canvas set to shift slightly in the passenger seat. Reaching over, she tucked the apparatus safely under the seatbelt, nudging it ever so slowly to test the rigidity. Satisfied, she gave her undivided attention to driving again, but she saw him then.

Maybe it was the sense of content, or the sudden bravery that sometimes takes over her, or the happiness that comes with the first day of August. Or maybe it was him. Hunched shoulders, hands in his jeans pockets, head down as if counting every broken cobblestone on the way - that drew her to him. She hit the brakes steadily, making sure the car pulled up next to him.

"James?" She questioned, even though she could recognize him from miles away. Pushing her shades up in her hair, she looked at him. And boy, he looked pretty bad up close. And he had to be messed up royally for her to admit James would ever look bad. Not physically, ofcourse. It was the eyes.

He appeared to be broken through a trance and focused his green eyes on hers. "Hey, August."

"Are you alright?" She didn't know how the courage to talk to him had birthed inside of her. Sure, it was different during school. She could hold a conversation with hundreds of people watching them, like a blanket of safety. Here? In the middle of a street, it felt like a glitch in the matrix. Talking to a boy from school, when they aren't forced by a universal law to occupy the same space. Talking to James. There was no party to run away to this time. No distractions.

"Oh yeah. I'm good," he shook his head, as if literally shaking away thoughts. His hair swayed ever so slightly with the movement and she caught herself captivated. Because if August knew anything in the world, it was painting and James. And he was clearly not 'good'.

"Liar. You look like you need company." She couldn't help the smile that slipped, "Come on, get in the car. Let's drive."

Next thing she knew, she was hauling away the new canvas set to the back seat where it watched her actions through a lens of betrayal. James didn't protest and walked around the car, welcoming himself in her personal space. Breathing the same air as hers.

~•~

When the golden glow of morning light hit her semi-conscious eyelids, August ached to clutch at the fading images of her dream. Images of certain green eyes and dark hair, of solid hands holding her close, of butterfly kisses his fingers left on her bare back skin.

She bolted right up, scared and shocked, panting heavily. Her forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her heart beat rapidly beneath her tank top. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and remember her surroundings, even if it was the same room she'd woken up in her whole life. She felt somewhere far away from home. Far away from reality. Mentally cursing herself - and her life - she slipped back and scooted into the comfort of her quilt.