19After Dark
They meet by the refreshment stand; pouring punch. Juice stain on knee of his jeans. Doesn't mind, not looking at himself anyways. She is, doesn't mind either. Thinks he's sweet with his asymmetrical jean legs and black t-shirt. Blue eyed puppy dog. They exchange first impressions and like what they think. Tells her the punch is spiked (it is) and she takes a coke instead. Smiles thank you, hurries into hallway washroom. Feels his eyes on her back as she retreats. Likes knowing he's interested. Splashes water on her face to stop the spreading blush and brushes bangs behind ears. Deep breath; smoothes out polka-dotted blouse. Adjusts pendant, tightens belt, ties sneaker laces.
Returns to dark stuffy room, music pumping. Evades drunken perverts and couples kissing in corners. Slides past his form leaning against the wall. Brushes up against him and blushes. Scent of outdoors and clean sheets; soft Sunday morning. He follows her onto deck. They're talking in cool breeze. Not so cool with his arm around her back. Grin hovering half a foot above her head. There until midnight. Ships and shoes and sealing wax. Break at 12 for drinks. She tosses popcorn in the air and he catches it in his mouth. Cheshire cat grins. Back at 12:30 for star spotting. Tells her he's lonely. Tells him she likes his eyes.
Party's winding down by 2AM. Not rowdy enough for cops, rowdy enough for no one else to want a back porch interlude. Someone's parents are getting home soon. Call for last dance. They share it on the wooden deck; his invitation. Bodies pressed tight, heads tucked in shoulders. Their hair tangles together. Cheek on collarbone. Warm in chill summer night.
She has to go. Past two. Her parents said they'd wait up. Six doors down. He walks her home, t-shirt sleeves flutter in breeze. They comment on summer vacation; house party; beach days; summer jobs. He's a musician. She interns at the museum. He wants a personal tour of the darkest, most abandoned corners. She graduated on the honour roll. He scraped by with a 67. Seems smart enough in the 6 hours they've known each other. Her house around the bend.
Awkward intermission by her front steps. Had a good time. You? Hell yeah. See you. Closes door softly, slips off sneakers, heart pounding. She looks out the window. No phone number on back of hand, head hung low. Rifling through cupboard drawers. Ballpoint, her sock feet on concrete steps. Wait. You don't have my number, do you? No. Here. Scribbles on palm of pale hand. Fingers reflexively curl at her touch. Ballpoint goes back in jeans pocket. He's one step below her, still taller. His long finger tilting up chin. Mouths within an inch; breath smells like cinnamon and his like watermelon gum. Soft lips touch soft lips. Bent heads, chests pressed close. Arms around pale neck. Elation rises simultaneously from two souls. First kiss under porch light.
Call me.
(A/N: The song "After Dark" by Le Tigre is what inspired this piece. As you can tell, it was done in a funky experimental type of prose, so I hope that you enjoy! Please read and review!)