He slips the lime out of his tumbler (now there's ***** dripping from his fingers). He touches it to my lips. I open my mouth - just enough. Alcohol and citrus skip over taste buds - green as a sharp June day. His nail grazes lightly my tongue - and I can’t bite here so I close my eyes instead. His hand (the same hand) slides around my waist. I feel him - smiling, laughing, whispering into my hair - I can't hear. All I can think about is how his knuckles are pressed (how they shift when he moves) against my skin - and that they’re still wet. He’s making small talk now with our friends. Like nothing happened. But his other hand is playing - cat-like, captivating. He's deliberately tracing circles with his thumb - around and around an imperfection in a discarded pint-glass.
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 4:42 PM UTC
He slips the lime out of his tumbler (now there's ***** dripping from his fingers). He touches it to my lips. I open my mouth - just enough. Alcohol and citrus skip over taste buds - green as a sharp June day. His nail grazes lightly my tongue - and I can’t bite here so I close my eyes instead. His hand (the same hand) slides around my waist. I feel him - smiling, laughing, whispering into my hair - I can't hear. All I can think about is how his knuckles are pressed (how they shift when he moves) against my skin - and that they’re still wet. He’s making small talk now with our friends. Like nothing happened. But his other hand is playing - cat-like, captivating. He's deliberately tracing circles with his thumb - around and around an imperfection in a discarded pint-glass.
