We woke up entangled, like we do every morning, and kissed till we ran out of breath. He told me he felt high when our skin touched. I melted closer into him, gripping his flesh.
The sun started to come out and fresh spring air beckoned people out of their houses. He grabbed a helmet and his bike and we walked to the park where he taught me how to ride, pedalling in wobbly circles on the grass. I only fell once. When I’d gotten the hang of it we rode to the beach, passing joggers on the track, the smell of jasmine and saltwater dancing together in the air. Cloud started to roll by and the grey water churned, a powerful jostling. The ocean simultaneously terrifies and calms me. That vastness. That deep unknown. The remnants of an old pier stuck out of the water, rotting wood rising out of the waves like gravestones.We dropped our bikes and ran towards the ocean, tackling one another to the ground, kissing in the sand. I keep finding remnants of the beach in my jeans, my bag, my bed.
Later, when the sun had melted out of the sky, we sat in swings looking up at the stars, and all the shadows flitting across the buildings. We talked about time and philosophy and “normal-ness”. He told me he wants to go crazy one day, when he’s old. I like the idea of insanity. I suppose all of it is just a social construct really. I’m intrigued by the possibility of an alternate reality created within your mind. Who’s to say that we’re not all insane and the “crazy” people are the ones that see the world for what it truly is.
When we got home and our bones were all warm again, we laid on the floor listening to Elvis crackling away on my record player, sipping on peppermint tea. He read my favourite book to me and my heart sped up, his voice deep and honey. All the terrible lovers I have suffered through before were worth it.
We fell asleep entangled, like we do every night.