Page 64 of Make Them Bleed
I let my head fall back against the couch, my body hardening at the thought of her here. I stare at the ceiling crack that looks like a map of a country I’ll never visit, and let the truth line up.
I’d sit close but not on you. I’d put your feet in my lap because you always pretend you hate that and then fall asleep. I’d ask if I could touch you. Then I’d learn the night’s map by touch—the line from your ear to your jaw, the place your pulse jumps when you’re trying to hide that you’re flustered.
I’d kiss you slow enough to make you roll your eyes at me and then faster when you tug my shirt and I remember we’re allowed to want the same thing.
A long pause. Then:
Juno: There are… moments when I want to stop being mad just to find out if your mouth is as good as your words.
Juno: Don’t let that go to your head.
Too late. It’s a balloon now. Fully inflated.
Juno: Ugh.
Juno: What would you not do?
Push. Assume. Touch without asking. Turn my phone over so you can’t see it.
I would not mistake being needed for being owed.
Her reply is so fast I can see her thumbs in it.
Juno: Good answer. Now, it’s your turn. Ask me one honest thing you’ve wanted all day and couldn’t.
There are a hundred. The stupid one wins.
What did you color after you got home the day you shut the Ring off?
Juno: Mandala page forty-three. The one about “balance.” I shaded in purple until my hand cramped.
Juno: It helped, a little. Then it didn’t. Then you texted and it did again. That’s annoying, by the way.
I’m honored to be your annoying.
I’m grinning when the next message hits and it short-circuits me from sternum to spine.
Juno: Arrow, I want to be kissed against the wall next time. Not because I’m forgiving you. Because I want to feel that… edge.
I have to stand, because sitting suddenly feels like a hazard. I pace to the window and stare out at the smear of city lights, composing a reply that doesn’t overpromise or underplay.
Copy. Wall-kissing requested. Boundaries file saved to desktop and tattooed on my bones.
Also, I’m going to think about you in my hoodie swallowing you whole until I forget how to form words.
She sends three eye-roll emojis, then:
Juno: What about tomorrow morning? Bagels and silence? Or bagels and a plan?
Both. I’ll be on your stoop at 8 with sesame, cinnamon-raisin, cream cheese that is definitely too fancy, and a draft op order called Operation Hold The Peppers.
Juno: That name is illegal.
Report me to the band.
Juno: I’d never betray Hold The Peppers.
Their lawyers are peppers. Peppercorn suits.
