Balconial Conversations

interlude \\ 66

i sold my soul to a three piece and he told me i was holy.

so i got the inspiration for this at church and it'll be supercool. do you go to church? please share in the comment section.

you're gonna be like what then woah then very conflicted. sorry not sorry; i think it's great.

but also...you know me. it might mean everything or it might mean nothing.

but pls hold yer fire ok I am not wearing kevlar

NOT EDITED EITHER!!!
***
"Hey Alex?" We stroll down the sidewalk in cusp-of-spring sunshine. He bought ice creams at the stand that opened this afternoon, and I have the immature urge to see what he'd do if I smushed mine in his face.

"Yeah?" His is something like Lemon Dram flavour, and mine is Oreo.

"You've got something," I mime touching my chin and he wipes at his.

"Is it gone?"

"No..." I lean closer, an exceptional actress, and bring my ice cream in an arch towards the spot he just rubbed at.

"Hey!" He jolts away, smeared with white-and-brown cream and laughing. I skip away, cautiously and he grins wickedly. "You're not getting away that easily."

He chases me across the road, deserted thankfully, fetching me up against a light post. Our childish laughter fills the air and people glance at us with amusement. He deliberately swipes his hand across the dripping lemon-flavoured cone and smears it across my cheek. I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts.

"Got you." He grins, cheekily.

"I dropped my ice cream," I tell him, only somewhat disappointed.

"Yeah?" His tongue skates across his bottom lip and I catch of glimpse of the shiny barbell. "It's yummy."

I wipe some off my cheek and lick my finger. I wrinkle my nose at him, tasting the sour-sweet lemon flavour. "Yours is gross."

"It's delicious." He takes a deliberate bite of his still-present cone. "Mm."

I roll my eyes and tip my head back against the post. He's not keeping me there with a hand, but he stands close enough that I can feel his body heat through the Arctic Monkeys t-shirt he wears.

He looks - no, kind of gazes - down at me, at my lips, back up to my eyes. "So," I say, squinting up at him, at the bright halo the sun behind him creates around his hair.

"So?" He questions, and leans almost imperceptibly closer. His eyes are a sparkling, crystalline blue, completely fixed on mine.

"What do you want to do now?"

"Depends on what you want to do."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. I'm nothing if not the perfect gentleman."

"So... if I wanted to stay here and..."

His eyes light, and his mouth tip up on one side. "Then we could stay here and..."

I lean across the space between us in an entirely experimental motion, and his mouth meets me halfway.

In romance novels, they always make a big deal about the moment his 'tongue traces the seam of her lips for her to open to him' but my mouth was already open slightly, so was his, and I can't imagine keeping it shut.

It's a cautious kiss. One that says hello. A nice to meet you, kiss. One that bodes needs for more exploring. His mouth tastes like cream and lemonade and long summer days, and his lips glance mine softly.

He pulls away, and I open my eyes. He smiles, carefully. Like he's restraining himself from a bigger, slightly foolish smile.

I don't restrain myself and grin at him like I normally wouldn't. He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and let his fingers brush my jaw.

"I should probably walk you home," he says, and links his fingers with mine.