Pushed

Pushed

Yes, I do realize that I look at him the way that I used to look at Tyler that night that we snuck out or the day after Thanksgiving, our first year. I am also aware that I look at him the same way that I looked at Ethan a couple of months ago on our drive up to Ypsilanti. Sometimes I tilt my head to the side and know that him being my friend isn’t enough anymore. When he talks, I stare at his large teeth, and when he laughs and then sighs afterwards I get to see his big brown eyes. He pushes me to the ground, but I grab his strong arm and hold on tight gripping my bear claws into his bicep. 

He practices pommel horse, and I stick my second beam routine. I launch myself off the lifted floor, and onto the thick blue pit mat that is tilted against the beam, and he does the same. I can now smell his breath, I can see the speckles of blue in his brown eyes, I can also smell his sweet scent. You know how people always have a particular smell to them? Well his is sweet, like pink strawberries and purple morning glories, and when you get close enough, you can smell it embedded into his skin.

I wave my hands, mentally yelling at all of those girls that turn him away. My respect for him could reach as far as the east is from the west, yet no other girls seem to see it. I bite my thumb, and shake my fist at them when their heads are turned. I hate them all. “Oops,” he laughs, “we were a little too close. Much closer and we would have smacked noses, and kissed.” Ah, kissing, I pull myself back and widen my eyes as if it is something that would make me want to sterilize my whole body for a month. This hides my curiosity.

What would it be like, for my lips to touch with his? His lips are thick, so I would be willing to gamble that kissing him would make my hands sweat, and shake, make my breaths become uneven as I gasp for air. The softest parts of our skin touching would make me want to touch his cheeks with my shaking hands. Maybe I would touch his angular face, then through his soft black hair as he earlier admitted to having pityriasis. I don’t care that can be easily fixed with medicated shampoo. Maybe I would finally get to feel his abs, I have seen them many times, but never felt them like this. I have felt his body before don’t get me wrong. Through pulling his legs for splits, giving him back rubs, long hugs, wet willies, him lying on top of me, he has caught me when I have fallen, I have spotted him before, and recorded so many videos of his designer body. I know his structure and form, but not like I would if we finally let ourselves connect by the innocent touch of lips.

I laugh, “Yeah Mason… let’s not kiss,” I say and give a convincing laugh. I sigh quietly to myself. I stick another beam routine.