The Queerest [🗸]

my tipping point

I see everything she does in slow motion.

She's talking to me right now, black hair falling to her shoulders, some hair pushed behind her ear, earrings glinting underneath the luminescent lighting of the cafeteria.

Riya Khatri is beautiful when she doesn't know she is. 

She probably doesn't notice the way my eyes drift to her chin, and how perfectly sculpted that has to be, or her hair, and wonder how it feels when you run your hands through it. My eyes drift down to her sneakers, tapping against the linoleum floor, and I wonder if she'll ever take me skating again.

We're friends now, I think. She doesn't seem to hate me, not really. I have plenty of amazing memories of dancing: dancing with my Dad during my quinceñeara, or the first time Tris nailed a pirouette in my dancing class. 

But, dancing with Riya, so close to her, everything about the moment moving quickly and slowly at the same time— that goes right up there with all my best dancing memories. 

It's not like I've ever been a huge fan of slow dances. The only ones I've really had have been with Ryder, during school dances. It's likely why I don't like school dances all that much. 

I didn't know you were actually supposed to feel something during slow dances, I thought all that shit was only in the movies.

But, two days ago? When I'd danced with her at the studio, something flew right threw me. It was like I was breathing— a strange feeling when I usually feel like I'm drowning. My heart was moving a mile a minute.

Like now.

Shaking my head, I will myself to bring myself back to the conversation.

"So, does next Wednesday work for you?" Riya asks, eyes inquisitive as my gaze returns to her.

My head shakes. "What?"

A laugh escapes Riya's lips as she leans against the back wall, the cafeteria noise swirling around us. "I was thinking that I'd come over for a lesson right after school." Her shoulders shrug, hair falling over her face. "And maybe we could head over to the skating park after school, who knows?"