I met Leo outside the gate of the pool after practice yesterday.
He held my hand as we took a shortcut through the back parking lot. I wanted to keep our fingers twisted together forever. We walked two blocks to his car on the hill by the house with the mailbox that looks like a lifeguard tower. Red rescue can and all.
We drove the streets home without talking. We didn’t need to.
We stood in my kitchen, where I made toast and swept up the crumbs with my hand. Leo ate four pieces with peanut butter while I went for cinnamon sugar.
He was standing there the way he always was. Looking the way I liked. Comfortable. Assured. Beautiful.
So I led him to my room.
Where it was only us.
Only then.
We ignored the knock on the front door from the UPS driver.
We ignored the minutes passing.
And the weather.
And the airplanes overhead.
The only thing we paid attention to was the moment. And the music on low. And the violet scarf over the lampshade that made my room look like twilight while our skin melded and our breath hitched.