Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)

Forty One - What I Love

I leaned against the chain-link fence, crossing my arms and ignoring the dents the metal bars left on my shoulder blades. My eyes were aimed at the random distance, lids drooping, my general disinterest and persistent exhaustion preventing me from being fully alert.

Josh and Kellin were chatting with some group of guys beside me. My position on the edge of the clump allowed me to listen to their menial words while not being required to contribute, so I heard the latest gossip and sports scores and stared into the distance, time ticking closer to the ringing of the bell. The sun pressed onto my skin and obscured my vision.

The bell signaled the beginning of PE as Alex appeared, striding over, no rush in his steady step. His eyes instantly locked on mine, remaining fixed while I looked him over. My vision dragged over his Converse, his clinging black jeans, his black Orioles shirt that was trimmed in orange. The color brought out the undertones in his disarrayed hair. His mouth was cocked in a half-grin, his legs springing as he drew closer.

It was the last day before Finals; all my classes were reviewing, and our gym lockers had been emptied the previous week, so the PE students were collectively directed towards the gym once the period commenced. The next hour was meant to be spent reading notes or fucking around on the bleachers inside.

Josh and Kellin went with the crowd, still caught in their casual conversation, and Alex and I exchanged a silent look, breaking away and moving in the opposite direction, towards the field. Since the teachers were preoccupied with the remaining huge collection of kids, our exit went unnoticed.

Alex linked our hands as our sneakers hit the grass. His eyes connected with mine again, curious voice questioning, "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"You look really hot," I replied, grinning lazily as my boyfriend stared at me with large eyes.

He squinted down at his shirt, stating, "You hate orange."

"Yeah," I said. He was correct; the cheery color usually sickened me, but Alex being an exception was not surprising anymore. And, fuck, did he look good in orange.

Alex decided that we had covered enough of the field and plopped down on the grass, pulling me with him. I half-fell, denim restraining my bent legs and a laugh sticking in my throat. Alex grinned, laying back and sticking his hands behind his head, teasing, "You're fucking weird."

I spread out next to him, shutting my eyes against the intense sun. Alex rolled onto his side to face me, propping himself up on one elbow, his other hand resting on my waistband, fingers pushing into my hip. He rolled his eyes when I repeated, "Yeah."

And then he was leaning over me and pressing our lips together, and I was wondering how something so great could've come out of a year so damaging. How I could feel so loose when everyone was tight with stress. How the despondency could be punctuated by smiling kisses and exhaled adoration.

The grass stained my elbows as I tugged the top button of my shirt open, heat intensifying the pressure on my throat. Alex flopped away from me, fidgeting until he was positioned with his chest on the ground, legs in the air, and cheek resting on his folded arms.

I passed over my phone without question when he requested it and chuckled when the crappy speakers spit out the opening notes of Blink-182's 'Always'.

"Fuck, Lex, could you be any more cheesy?" I asked, squinting at him sideways.

"I like this song," he said dismissively, voice becoming muffled as he dropped his head into the grass. He stretched out completely, legs flat behind him and arms over his head. He groaned, "Fuck, it's way too hot. I hate summer."