We sat in a circle,
our legs crossed beneath us
and our hands folded in our laps.
Everyone was glancing at each other,
never making more than three seconds
of eye contact.
The tension was in the air,
heightened with each snap of a tree branch
or the occasional passing car.

Later, in the bedroom, we all
sat in thought on the floor,
some of us sprawled at odd angles.
You would keep taking my hand
or playing with the little out of place
wisps of my hair.
I kept my eyes on you, or I tried,
anyways, since they kept drooping.

It was only a Tuesday night.
We were getting ahead of ourselves.