fall
by Julia
The one that was going was saying, the one that was glowing, the one that was going was saying then, I am content, you are not content, I am content you are not content, I am content, you are not content, you are content, I am content.
Gertrude Stein, from “Storyette, H.M.” 1914
ii. run.
And he ran. Wasn’t that always the way? When things went wrong, when the kids back in Tennessee called him a scrub and grabbed at his curls, he ran.
He should have known there would be a reason for it in the end. He always got tight doing those last few sets of bleachers. There was the expected sting in his calves and the late October air crackling through his chest. A sidelong glance towards the parking lot as he headed for the last downward swing, not conscious anymore of the sound of his trainers slapping the pavement. There she stood, hip cocked against his Cabrio, right where he knew she would be.
Another few steps, and the duffle bag on the bleachers was slung comfortably over his shoulder. “Hey.”
“J.” She looked at him with a smirk, brown eyes teasing. “You’re sweaty.”
“Ya think?” He threw the bag past her into the back seat and turned, looking at the sliver of skin above her jeans, the freckle on her neck. He skipped over searching brown eyes and settled on glossy lips.
“Yeah, I think. And I like. Come here.” She leaned against the car, arms braced on the car door on either side of her body. He took a step forward, his long legs framing hers. Her jeans were rough against the slick nylon of his warm-up pants. His eyes slid into slits as she kissed the side of his mouth, tasting salt, and felt her tongue in his mouth. So wet, so soft.
“I missed you at lunch, Justin.” Her breath as she said it was hot against his skin, and anyone else would have missed the accusatory tone beneath her whisper.
“I was—you know Coach, Brit. He wanted another couple miles to keep me in shape for the last meet. All kinds of scouting at the last one.”
“’kay, well. Coach can kiss my ass.” Problem was, he’d probably want to. As Britney looked over his shoulder at the rest of the guys finishing up their bleacher sets, he was there, eyes predictably leering at her beneath his baseball cap. Between having Justin pressed up against her and the coach leering at her like she was a piece of ripe fruit, a cleansing shower would be in order. After rehearsal.
She slid out under Justin’s arm with a giggle. “Listen, I’ll stop by the store if Joe lets us out early. When do you get off tonight?”
“I don’t know, Brit, why don’t you tell me?” He finally turned his head squinting his eyes lecherously, the sparkle in his eyes giving away his silent laughter.
“You’re such a fool.” She stuck her tongue out and wrinkled her nose, breaking into a jog.
“Done at seven!” he called to her back, watching her dirty blond hair gently swinging against it as she ran, kicking up brittle brown leaves behind her. He got the feeling that they were hitting him in the face.
