shower scene 2

“Come in,” I said; “… me,” I thought.

You said you had to pee. You sounded so uncomfortable. My heart sank. Had it always been so awkward? Was talking just something we did to kill the time between screwing each other’s brains out?

The shower curtain was transparent. There was nowhere to hide. You didn’t look at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you. While you washed your hands you caught my eye in the mirror over the sink. You gave me the same, “I hate being the bad guy,” look you gave me when you returned my Family Guy DVDs. I looked back but didn’t speak. You turned to face me and walked toward me, stopping right next to me but outside the shower. I combed my hair back with my fingers and we just looked at each other in weighted silence. I pulled back the curtain and tiny drops sprayed your face and clothes. I reached out to stroke your beard. You exhaled and looked down at my body, then back to meet my eyes. “We can’t do this.”

I said, “I know,” but I kissed you anyway.

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