We Pretend We’re Civilized

The day I meet him, the platinum highlights in his hair undercut his emo bangs like a goth golden retriever. I want to nuzzle and nap with him. His nails are short with coffee grounds under them. And I can’t believe he’s staring back at me.

We fall into each other. I bring him my fancy tea, and he brings me day-olds from the coffee shop where he works. Our hands graze in the exchange. I’m careful my opal ring doesn’t scratch him. The prongs are sharp, deadly. His hands are large, rough. I want them on the sensitive skin under my shirt, tracing my hips. That feeling alone would be enough. Before class we snack on a bench, my knee lightly bumping into his. We pretend we’re civilized.

It’s a few weeks before I invite him back to my dorm room. His hands under my shirt are everything I wanted. The drag of his skin against mine. My arms around his neck, my chest pressed against his. Our mouths having a different kind of conversation. But you’d have to freeze frame that moment because it didn’t last. I’m getting exactly what I want when his hands slip down and rip off my shirt. I’m topless in front of a guy for the first time. Sharply freezing in the air conditioning. Aware of the random freckles, the skin tags, the unfortunate nude-colored bra that was never meant to be seen by anyone other than me. In his hurry, my opal scratched his neck. He doesn’t seem to notice as he smushes me against him. My body is all fat and jelly. I push off him with the same motion I’d learned to pass a basketball.

He’s confused, hurt. I don’t know what to say. Words seem far-off and impossible. I fumble for my shirt. I’ll be able to think better when I’m dressed. His hair swoop falls forward as he reaches for his bag. It’s firmly on his shoulder when I realize my body is blocking his exit. His face is hard. He’s projecting false toughness. I don’t know how to have the conversation I want to have. How to draw boundaries around my body. To ask for closeness without being consumed. The boy from the bench is gone, and I let him pass.