Russell

As you begin to kiss me, I’m silent for the first time since we’ve met. The minutes steadily tick by as I stare you straight in the eyes, unable to form coherent questions. I try to memorize the texture of your curls, your hairline, your flawless skin, your piercing blue eyes behind thick-framed glasses, your lips that seem too full, the cleft in your chin, the stubble surrounding your mouth. You have an unbelievably quick wit and a good heart, but I can’t manage to see past your veiled eyes.

 

I say nothing, pretending that my heart is impenetrable. I block every thought and emotion but I can feel my precociousness preparing for betrayal.

 

“Who are you?”, I want to ask. “What is this? Are you going to hurt me? How long before I do something that hurts you? How long before you fall for me and I play the same game? How long before I walk away?”

 

At point blank range, I note your every flaw. You have a nervous laugh and your fingers fidget when you speak. You are intelligent but unfocused, smart enough to be nerdy. You are an only child. Your jacket is too big, your slacks are wrinkly, and your shoes don’t match, but your sweater is the exact shade of your ice blue eyes. You are timid and unsure. I can imagine you ever having a secret or surprising someone or taking a transatlantic flight on a whim. I am Natalie Portman to your Zach Braff, which is romantic until you realize that at some point, she must have grown bored of him.

 

When I am in your arms, I stop assessing. You remember everything I have said to you, most of which was said merely in passing; I hope that all of my stories match in spite of my flair for overstatement. I feel your fingers trace my spine, trailing down the crest of my hip. Your palms cover my torso. I can feel your body beginning to shake as sweat beads appear above your lip and below your hairline. I stop short of imagining our bodies as one, writhing and entwining.

 

I don’t know if I’m ready for this and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to say no. I’m not a girl who settles for less than wonderful, but I’m not opposed to occupying myself in the meantime. For now, I’ll stay silent, my doubts the only part of me that run free.