Balconial Conversations

24 // apartment hopping

I walk across the apartment, taking measure of the thrown-over throw blankets and pillows, fashion magazines, chick-lit novels, cans of mango juice. It's blatantly obvious that women live here; only women.

I open the door, only half believing that he's actually out there. He is. Leaning elegantly against the doorframe in the same clothes he had on two seconds ago; black skinny sweatpants and a white t-shirt. Pale, long feet. "Hey, Katherine."

"Hi," I say, softly. I open the door, wordlessly and he strolls past me, all broad shoulders and leaning-back-swagger. My mother is at a benefit with her boss, only to return after midnight.

I have a boy in the room. The apartment. Alone. An older boy who thinks sex doesn't mean anything. Who breaks hearts.

What am I doing?

I follow him down the short hall to find him in the living room, hovering beside the built in book shelves. Alongside the novels, travel books and old magazines, there are souvenirs from the cities we've lived and pictures. Silly pictures. My mom, she's superpretty and loves photography. Me, I'm not camera shy so much as camera ambivalent.

"Aw, you were adorable." He says, tapping the mahogany framed picture of me wearing a bright red lobster costume on Halloween twelve years ago. My cheeks are flushed to match the plush body suit, and my hair is combed away from my face beneath the googly-eyed hood.

"Um, no." I walk past him and curl my legs beneath me on the couch. It has to be said that we've got an incredible couch, it's gray leather and extremely cushiony with only a few nail polish stains. And the stains coordinate with the colour, so it's acceptable.

"So," he says, turning with a wicked grin. "This is your place."

"Yup," I focus on the bottle of Tiffany Box Blue nail polish on the coffee table. Maybe I'll paint my nails later, or tomorrow.

He drops onto the couch beside me; not too close, but not altogether far either. I can smell mouthwatering cologne, something like mint and water and euphoria. His hair isn't messy like it usually is, but gelled in a wave away from his forehead.

I sigh, and suddenly feel hands on my ankles. I open my mouth so say something - anything - but he places my bare feet in his lap before I can, and grins broadly. "So. What's up?"

"I don't know, I was just... I don't know. Don't you ever feel lonely?" I try, involuntarily knocking my heel against his leg.

"Not often," he bites his lip and glances down at the coffee table. "What do you wanna do? I could paint your nails."

"I'll pass, but thanks anyway. We could watch a movie?"

"I like movies."
***

*they kiss*
*we smile*

((But they haven't yet hawhawhaw))