Prose for you

It was quick. That brief moment instant, I don’t know how we actually got there. 
Or maybe I do. Perhaps, somewhat. It had been just you and I, you know, the usual goofing around, me cracking my brazen and unapologetic puns, you smiling in queer admiration; you going on and on about that funny thing that happened earlier on in the day, and me, laughing. We were quite content, I know as we usually are, sitting in our favourite swivel chairs, the grey plastic ones with wheels. One instant my attention was fleeting – from the reflection of the window-pane, to the light glazing through, to the patterns on your bedsheet, to all the little trinkets on your shelf which you are obsessed with, and to our dying laughter at your anecdote. Gareth had defended his ignorance in a way that could be interpreted in more than one way, and those specific other ways had made you all burst – slowly, then all at once. You had told that me about it twice now already, so you must find it very hilarious. That is you.

But I did not see what could have come next. 
In the dying laughter, our dying laughter, she pushed her swivel-chair towards me with a gentle push against the ground with her two feet, finding some fun in zooming on wheels like a child on a spaceship. There had been a considerable distance between her and I, which almost suddenly disappeared. But I wasn’t surprised then, since every time she lunged for my sides, the same kinds of things happened, and the distance just became rather negligible. We would end up in another tickle battle. I supposed this was what this would be, so I was somewhat bracing myself.

But you did not aim your fingers for my waist, to get me to laugh. My legs had been slightly open as I sat in the chair watching you, and everything was pretty accurate: your right knee sliding between my two knees, your left leg next to my right. I was rather taken aback, with this sandwiching of my and your legs. It all happened as I heard the sound of one of your chair legs hitting one of mine with a soft plastic click. And now we were sitting facing each other, and I didn’t move, just looking quite surprised and curious, then looking at you. It all sounds so weird now that I describe what you just did. It did not occur to me then.  

Then her left knee bobbed a little against mine, very slow, as she asked with a grin, “How about you?” It is as if the best adjective for you would be mischievous, but then again I do not know what it is that you want. Because at that moment I felt confused and somewhat nervous, trying to laugh it off, but I couldn’t, since she was right in front of me. Almost like I was seeing her for the first time. Have I always known you to be like this? The only queer thing is still the tickling, and I wonder why I’m pretty fine with it.

I hope you know that some things can be quite bone-tingling, I am not sure if the word ‘aroused’ is appropriate, or perhaps it is, in an emotional sense. You had me thinking crazy things because I received some wrong messages from you. I hope it’s not just my interpretation. We were even joking about this when you said, “Friends? Friends only?” and I replied, laughing – it is still our little pact, I hope. 

Oh, sometimes, I think it’s just you. You and the things you do tend to drive me to the edges. Really.


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