《Mirrored Cuts》Chapter 31

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But he didn’t let me answer. His lips brushed mine and I fell into his kiss, much like I had fallen into our friendship, willing but unaware. After an eternity, or perhaps a millisecond, he released me from the kiss, and I saw him. I wished I could be swallowed by that moment.

The dorm room door shook.

We looked at each other, like rabbits caught in a floodlight.

“Seriously, dude. Again?” It was his RA.

“Go,” he said, much more clear-headed than he had been two moments prior.

I scrabbled around, looking for something that I could use to shield myself from his RA’s fury. I hid behind his roommate’s human sized teddy bear.

When I think about it, I could have picked a multitude of better hiding spots. The closet, underneath his desk, in the laundry basket, or even underneath a balled up comforter. But instead, I chose to place myself behind a six-foot tall children’s toy, in a room full of the smell of weed. Flint Febreezed the room and opened a window before opening the door for his RA. When he opened the door, his RA was all jokes.

“I told you last time that you had to share next time,” the RA said. “The price of smoking in the dorms.”

Flint found a bag and handed it over to his RA. They fist bumped, causing me to wince at how bro-y they were.

“See ya, bud.” His RA left and they door fell shut.

He moved across the room too fast for me to process. He pulled me towards him and then down to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” I said, confused as to what, in specific, I was apologizing for. I had so much to apologize for.

Flint ran his hands up and down my sides, catching my shirt in the motion. “You keep saying that.”

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I explored the ridges of his body, pressing into the softer places with my mouth, coaxing a response. The distance between us disappeared and I felt myself becoming made, and unmade, with each breath. It was instinctual, like we had known each other before. It was a feeling so strong that I felt myself become dizzy and gave myself over to it.

When we had exhausted ourselves, he carried me over to the bed and let me rest, running his fingers through my hair, untangling the knots of our complexity. I let myself rest there, knowing that the moment was ephemeral and too fragile for me to handle with care.

He shifted reaching for his water glass. “They say you should drink eight 8-oz glasses a day.”

“I have to go.”

“Of course you do,” Flint said.

I moved to hug him but he leaned back. He gestured to the door. I pulled my clothes back on and followed the lifeline his hand connected to, looking both ways before crossing the border that delineated his room from public domain.

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