God.
It sounds like a bad pickup line, except it’strue, and that makes it worse. I miss the way his eyes crinkle when he’s trying not to laugh at my dumb jokes. I miss the stupid little dimple that appears when he’s concentrating on sheet music. I miss the way he looks at me sometimes like I’m the only person in the room who matters.
And I miss his face right now when the rest of the world is asleep and it’s just us awake and stupid enough to text each other like this.
The phone buzzes against my sternum, and I flinch like it shocked me.
Dmitri (1:51 A.M.)
I miss yours too.
Another photo arrives. This one is him in bed, propped against the headboard. He doesn’t have a shirt on, and his hair is messy from running his hands through it. The lamp on his nightstand casts soft light across his face, highlighting his tired eyes and small smile.
The kind that makes my chest ache.
Dmitri (1:51 A.M.)
There. Proof of life.
I swallow hard. My pulse is loud in my ears, because this moment feels like a tipping point. It feels like a precipice I’ve been teetering on for too long, and I have to decide if I’m going to pull back, or if I’m going to let gravity take me.
You look good. Too good for 2 a.m.
Dmitri (1:52 A.M.)
You’re not exactly hard on the eyes either.
You haven’t seen me right now.
Don’t need to see you to know.
I keep thinking about what you said at the lake.
About… my body.
The softness thing.
Fuck that sounds lame. Can I take it back?
No, you can’t take it back.
It’s just…
You said it like it wasn’t a flaw.
Because it isn’t.
You said it like you liked it.
Why wouldn’t I like it? It’s part of you.
I meant every word.
You weren’t just being nice?
Making me feel better because you were standing over there looking perfect?
Fuck, I don’t know what I’msaying.
