In Esence We Are Falling

“Carl gets mad at people in the isle, he needs to see out the back window,” he said, smiling again and pulled me closer, onto his lap. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and climbed on top of him, trying to manage my weight so he wouldn’t have to feel it. There was a puzzled look on his face.

“How much do you weigh?” I heard. I adjusted myself on him so my arms were pushed close to my chest and my sleeves were over my mouth, my forehead leaning against his collar bone. I thought about how awkward it might be for him having a mouthful of my hair. He smoothed my hair, probably removing it from his lips, which I so desperately wanted to kiss then spoke again. “Joshua?”

“Right, sorry,” I said, looking back up at him. I’d forgotten he asked a question. I was daydreaming about him. His whole body, his smiling lips, his beautiful chest. He was perfect. “93 pounds,” I mumbled into his chest, keeping my head down. I knew that any second he’d yell at me for it.

I heard a small gasp from him and he pulled my chin up, gently. “That’s not healthy…”

“I know,” I admitted, studying the window behind him, then looked down. “I’m normally less, I just-”

“Joshua!”

“What do you care!?” I smacked his arm away. “You hate me.”

He took one of my hands, slowly intertwining our fingers and pulled my chin back up with the other. “Hush…” he whispered. I closed my eyes and relaxed again. He looked at my hand, just noticing the cloth on it. He unraveled it slowly and I didn’t argue. I didn’t feel like it. I felt like something. In his arms, against his body I felt like I wasn’t a mistake. Maybe, just maybe I like this kid.

He held my hand up to me, the movements of my body causing me to be aware and open my eyes, like I didn’t already know what happened. Like I couldn’t see the broken skin and dried blood and gave me a questioning and worried look. “Why?”

“You…” I felt guilty saying it and felt him inhale deeply, his chest moving. I shut my eyes. “Why are you suddenly so nice?” I asked, looking up at him though my hair to see his eyes closed. He didn’t answer, I guess he knew as much as I did. I sat up, slightly, just noticing that the bus was moving and kissed his bottom lip softly and lightly. He opened his eyes.

“This my stop,” he informed me. I sat up and walked off the bus, smiling and threw my backpack over my shoulders. I turned and looked at the steps, watching him come down them. As soon as he was out I couldn’t help but put my arms around him. I was away from his for a whole twenty seconds, I needed his touch.

For some reason that I couldn’t make sense of, I waited for him after school. I stood at the back gate, where the busses picked us up. When he saw me, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me along with him.

“You’re riding with me today,” he said. I didn’t protest. I was getting so attached to him. I couldn’t think of a single time where I didn’t want him to be touching me. I’m not sure what drove me to it, but I made him release his grip on my wrist and instead took his hand and laced my fingers with his. This seemed to take him by surprise; he looked at me. I saw a smile appear as he turned away. We were getting closer and closer to the bus and the butterflies from his smile were slowly fading.

“Bus note?”

He handed a bus note the driver. “Thank you. You’re late, though, again Jacob.”

“Sorry, sir, he’s slow.” He pointed to me. I wasn’t slow, Jacob was just late.

“All right, just don’t be late next time.”

“Thank you, sir. Sorry again.” Jacob sat in the very last right seat; seat 14. Apparently no one sat in the back because of a rumor someone had sex in the last three seats, both sides. I laughed at that.

My mood became softer. I wasn’t mad at him, I don’t know how I could be. I, for some reason, felt the need to speak lower, too. He sat down, sideways, the wrong way so he would be facing the other seat with his legs taking the seat. I saw no room for me, so I walked to the other seat but was stopped by his fingers touching mine, reaching for my hand.

“Sit with me,” he smiled. The butterflies were swarming. I sat on the very edge, the smallest hint of room, just enough for me to have half of my butt hanging off.

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