Inferno.
Noria.
Sunset creeping up beyond the horizon and colors exploding – reds and oranges and yellows galore – like a blazing inferno. Fires streaking across and melting the sedating blue we call day.
“Quick, the Ferris Wheel,” I beam, gripping his sweat coated palms against my own as we race towards the fair’s Ferris Wheel; a black silhouette against the raging flames of the sky.
“I don’t like heights,” he mumbles into my shoulder, his hot breath piercing the fabric of my clothing and igniting the flesh beneath. “Plus, it rocks around too much up there.”
“You’ll be fine.”
I pull the bleach blond boy behind me and lock us into cart number six. Six has been my favorite number since I was really young; it was the number that I got when I played recreational basketball and it just stuck. The strangest things tend to stick with you throughout your entire life.
The sunset is in full bloom and he’s holding my hand and telling me he’s scared shitless.
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Talk about a segway.
He pauses for a long while, about halfway around the wheel before he stammers a quick and soft, but still audible, no.
Without warning or hesitation, I grab hold of his shirt and smash our faces together so fast that it makes the car dip.
At that point, it doesn’t matter that he may be disgusted and offended.
At that point, it doesn’t matter that he’s kissing back and my heart is on the brink of exploding.
At that point, it doesn’t even matter how much the car is rocking or that were at the very, very top and the sunset is fading.
The passion, the danger, the sunset, the Ferris Wheel; this was everything we could ask for and more.
It feels like were infinite, it feels like were near-death, it feels like were on fire.
Hands grasping each other’s, his flesh feels fiery, as if a relentless forest fire was happening in his capillaries and his flesh was masking the fire so his body wouldn’t ignite. And since we’re cliché little teenagers, we figure this is just what a first kiss feels like. The searing pain layering your body from head-to-toe and the sweat pouring and the boiling blood; it’s all utterly normal.
As if a first kiss is supposed to feel like you’re being burnt alive.
Then and only then did it occur to me that we’re actually on fire.
And at that point, it didn’t even matter.
“Quick, the Ferris Wheel,” I beam, gripping his sweat coated palms against my own as we race towards the fair’s Ferris Wheel; a black silhouette against the raging flames of the sky.
“I don’t like heights,” he mumbles into my shoulder, his hot breath piercing the fabric of my clothing and igniting the flesh beneath. “Plus, it rocks around too much up there.”
“You’ll be fine.”
I pull the bleach blond boy behind me and lock us into cart number six. Six has been my favorite number since I was really young; it was the number that I got when I played recreational basketball and it just stuck. The strangest things tend to stick with you throughout your entire life.
The sunset is in full bloom and he’s holding my hand and telling me he’s scared shitless.
“Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Talk about a segway.
He pauses for a long while, about halfway around the wheel before he stammers a quick and soft, but still audible, no.
Without warning or hesitation, I grab hold of his shirt and smash our faces together so fast that it makes the car dip.
At that point, it doesn’t matter that he may be disgusted and offended.
At that point, it doesn’t matter that he’s kissing back and my heart is on the brink of exploding.
At that point, it doesn’t even matter how much the car is rocking or that were at the very, very top and the sunset is fading.
The passion, the danger, the sunset, the Ferris Wheel; this was everything we could ask for and more.
It feels like were infinite, it feels like were near-death, it feels like were on fire.
Hands grasping each other’s, his flesh feels fiery, as if a relentless forest fire was happening in his capillaries and his flesh was masking the fire so his body wouldn’t ignite. And since we’re cliché little teenagers, we figure this is just what a first kiss feels like. The searing pain layering your body from head-to-toe and the sweat pouring and the boiling blood; it’s all utterly normal.
As if a first kiss is supposed to feel like you’re being burnt alive.
Then and only then did it occur to me that we’re actually on fire.
And at that point, it didn’t even matter.