Looking At Us

62. cris

Emily didn’t answer the door when Niomi came. Darrin did. He called my name, and I brought her up to my bedroom, and she found her sweater. And then she kissed me. 

     Her lips were soft, cold, hard on mine. She kissed me like there was no tomorrow. I didn’t see what the occasion was—it’s Go Get My Sweater Day! Kiss me, Cris!—but she wrapped her arms around my neck and I held her small waist and I was extremely aware of her breasts pressing against my chest, layered behind my T-shirt and her sweatshirt and her undershirt and her bra and God, she was seducing me, but I kind of liked it. 

     ‘‘Why?’’ I hissed.

     ‘‘Shhh.’’ She kissed me to shut me up. ‘‘Just give in.’’

     I slid my hands over her thighs and allowed her to push me onto the bed, my heart beating a million miles per hour, and I let her kiss me, and she let me kiss her back. The night air rushed through my window, cold and wild, and it felt good on my skin as she pulled off my shirt. 

     Just give in.

     Niomi’s hands went to my jeans, unbuttoned the button, and 

     I

        gave

                  in

     It’s a game. 

     So I had sex with Niomi that night, and it was nice, but it was also unreal, because I was playing a game. I was gambling. I was betting my money on who I loved more, two girls, two lives, two loves, and as I explored one girl’s skin, I thought of the other girl, and I thought: If this does not end well, I will die. I will kill myself. I will drown in misery.

     It was a game.

     Looking at us, I see your smile, and I feel your hand, and I wonder, truly, if we are

meant to 

          survive this

                         journey.