We're Drowning in Cliches
through the keyhole i watched you dress
I watch the minutes tick by. Four-ten, four-twelve, thirteen, fourteen...
Four-fifteen PM.
I stand and head over to my chair by the window. Sitting on the windowsill is a can of soda dripping condensation, a small pair of binoculars.
And, outside the window, is her.
She's leggy, green-eyed, and porcelain-skinned. She's the polar opposite of me. Where I'm dark, she's light. She's got one small innocent tattoo on her foot, a star, whereas my arms are endless maps of ink. My friends crack jokes about Donnie Darko and vampires, her friends fuss with her hair and debate over what restaurant they would look more trendy sitting in front of.
God, she was perfect, and so out of my fucking league. Here I am, the guy that wears tight black pants and t-shirts with logos for bands that would probably make her cringe, and her the girl that undoubtedly has a kitten named after some clothing designer and bedding in some nice pastel shade. The Goth and the girl next door. How cliche is that?
She lives three houses down from me. Every day at four-fifteen, she does work for my busy neighbors who aren't home half the day. Watering plants, picking up leaves, putting the cushions on the back porch furniture. Outside of these one sided meetings, I rarely saw her. Although the educational system had a bit to do with that. I was nineteen; I'd taken a year off, but in four months I would be leaving for college. She had just recently graduated, and as far as I knew she would be leaving for college too come fall.
Which is why I had decided to finally make my move.
Today, she was out there in a t-shirt and shorts, cleaning the pool. Her sun-streaked hair was tied back in an over-the-shoulder braid. I can't even count on both hands how many times I've fantasized about her hand being mine when she takes out the scrunchie and runs her fingers through it.
I usually watch her the whole two hours she's out there. Today is different. Today I talk to her. I leave the can of soda unfinished and toss the binoculars on my bed, heading downstairs to the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge.
Adam said I was stupid. Craig said the girls that ran with our crowd were much prettier.
I didn't give a fuck what they thought.
Closing the front door behind me, I begin my walk down the street. I'd been practicing my speech in my head for about a week now. I mean, I didn't want to seem like the window-peeking-weirdo I actually was, y'know?
Carelessly I walked through Adam and Mrs Langston's backyards. Her back was to me, so she didn't see me running my hand through my hair nervously and chewing my lip. Finally, before she realized there was some freak standing behind her, I spoke up.
"Hey. Your name's Vera, right?" Like I didn't know.
Rather than jump and squeal, she turns around slowly, propping herself up on the net for the pool. Those eyes, inhumanly green almost, stare back into mine.
"Yeah."
"I was just outside cleaning my car, and my mom noticed that you were out here in the sun working, so she thought I ought to bring you a bottle of water."
She smiles this tiny almost-smirk and takes the bottle of water from my hand, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink.
"You were cleaning your car in ninety degree weather in black skinny jeans and a dark blue shirt?"
Way to go, idiot.
"Oh, it was just some crumbs I needed to clean out of my backseat. My friend Adam spilled a can of Pringles or something back there."
She nods silently, taking a few more sips and studying me.
"You look familiar. Your name is...Matt. Matt Good, right?"
"Yeah," I swell with happiness; she remembers me. "I graduated a year ahead of you."
"Yeah, cool. Thanks for the water."
"No problem."
Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out what to do after this point. We stood there in a semi-awkward silence while she finished the bottle of water, tossing it in the trash can beside the backdoor.
Then again, I suppose we didn't need a conversation starter, because when I turn to head back to my room with my tail between my legs, I slip on a puddle of water and fall fully clothed into the pool.
Now you're an idiot and a fucking klutz.
I could hear her laughing before I even resurfaced. Once I did and shook my hair out of my eyes, I could see her doubled over, clutching her stomach.
"Oh, you think that's funny?"
Without even blinking I grab her hand (her hand; I'm actually touching her hand) and pull her in with me. And oh my god when she resurfaces, I can see her fucking bra through her shirt.
"Ha ha, really hiliarious." For a second I think I've pissed her off, but she smiles and steps out of the pool, offering me a hand. I take it, climbing back up onto the grass. Damn it, there's a breeze and now I'm freezing. Off goes my shirt; I sigh as I wring it out.
"Hey, you've got more ink under there."
She touches her fingers to my chest, tracing along the branches and leaves. Before I have a chance to say anything she's pulling up her fucking shirt and I'm about to ask what the hell she's doing before I see something totally unexpected.
Tats. And not just someone's name on a banner between two sparrows or some little trail of stars or pawprints, but an intricate mapwork of tattoos up both of her sides, and one across her stomach.
"Whoa..."
I reach out a hand slowly, expecting her to jerk away. She doesn't, and I trace my fingertips over her skin, trying to discern what was all there. A starry night sky, a hawk, golden roses...
"These are fantastic."
"Yours aren't half bad either."
She grabs my left arm, smiling and tapping my forearm.
"No Face. Nice, I'm a big fan of anime."
"Shut up, you're such a liar."
She laughs and takes my damp shirt from my hands, draping it over a chair in the sun.
"I'm serious."
This is actually going better than expected. Thank you, clumsy feet.
Suddenly, she's inching closer to me. I can feel her breath on my naked chest, can see my reflection in her pupils.
"I think, Matt, that I like you."
"What-"
She cuts me off with a kiss.
Vera motherfucking Grove is kissing me, with my shirt four feet away and her shirt still pulled up and our wind-chilled skin pressed together. No tongue, just the heat of her lips and her teeth tugging on my lip ring. My shivers are no longer from the cold. Finally, she breaks it, panting and licking her lips. I'm the one to smile this time, removing the scrunchie from her hair, finally able to run my fingers through it.
"I think, Vera, that I like you too."
Four-fifteen PM.
I stand and head over to my chair by the window. Sitting on the windowsill is a can of soda dripping condensation, a small pair of binoculars.
And, outside the window, is her.
She's leggy, green-eyed, and porcelain-skinned. She's the polar opposite of me. Where I'm dark, she's light. She's got one small innocent tattoo on her foot, a star, whereas my arms are endless maps of ink. My friends crack jokes about Donnie Darko and vampires, her friends fuss with her hair and debate over what restaurant they would look more trendy sitting in front of.
God, she was perfect, and so out of my fucking league. Here I am, the guy that wears tight black pants and t-shirts with logos for bands that would probably make her cringe, and her the girl that undoubtedly has a kitten named after some clothing designer and bedding in some nice pastel shade. The Goth and the girl next door. How cliche is that?
She lives three houses down from me. Every day at four-fifteen, she does work for my busy neighbors who aren't home half the day. Watering plants, picking up leaves, putting the cushions on the back porch furniture. Outside of these one sided meetings, I rarely saw her. Although the educational system had a bit to do with that. I was nineteen; I'd taken a year off, but in four months I would be leaving for college. She had just recently graduated, and as far as I knew she would be leaving for college too come fall.
Which is why I had decided to finally make my move.
Today, she was out there in a t-shirt and shorts, cleaning the pool. Her sun-streaked hair was tied back in an over-the-shoulder braid. I can't even count on both hands how many times I've fantasized about her hand being mine when she takes out the scrunchie and runs her fingers through it.
I usually watch her the whole two hours she's out there. Today is different. Today I talk to her. I leave the can of soda unfinished and toss the binoculars on my bed, heading downstairs to the kitchen to get a bottle of water out of the fridge.
Adam said I was stupid. Craig said the girls that ran with our crowd were much prettier.
I didn't give a fuck what they thought.
Closing the front door behind me, I begin my walk down the street. I'd been practicing my speech in my head for about a week now. I mean, I didn't want to seem like the window-peeking-weirdo I actually was, y'know?
Carelessly I walked through Adam and Mrs Langston's backyards. Her back was to me, so she didn't see me running my hand through my hair nervously and chewing my lip. Finally, before she realized there was some freak standing behind her, I spoke up.
"Hey. Your name's Vera, right?" Like I didn't know.
Rather than jump and squeal, she turns around slowly, propping herself up on the net for the pool. Those eyes, inhumanly green almost, stare back into mine.
"Yeah."
"I was just outside cleaning my car, and my mom noticed that you were out here in the sun working, so she thought I ought to bring you a bottle of water."
She smiles this tiny almost-smirk and takes the bottle of water from my hand, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink.
"You were cleaning your car in ninety degree weather in black skinny jeans and a dark blue shirt?"
Way to go, idiot.
"Oh, it was just some crumbs I needed to clean out of my backseat. My friend Adam spilled a can of Pringles or something back there."
She nods silently, taking a few more sips and studying me.
"You look familiar. Your name is...Matt. Matt Good, right?"
"Yeah," I swell with happiness; she remembers me. "I graduated a year ahead of you."
"Yeah, cool. Thanks for the water."
"No problem."
Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out what to do after this point. We stood there in a semi-awkward silence while she finished the bottle of water, tossing it in the trash can beside the backdoor.
Then again, I suppose we didn't need a conversation starter, because when I turn to head back to my room with my tail between my legs, I slip on a puddle of water and fall fully clothed into the pool.
Now you're an idiot and a fucking klutz.
I could hear her laughing before I even resurfaced. Once I did and shook my hair out of my eyes, I could see her doubled over, clutching her stomach.
"Oh, you think that's funny?"
Without even blinking I grab her hand (her hand; I'm actually touching her hand) and pull her in with me. And oh my god when she resurfaces, I can see her fucking bra through her shirt.
"Ha ha, really hiliarious." For a second I think I've pissed her off, but she smiles and steps out of the pool, offering me a hand. I take it, climbing back up onto the grass. Damn it, there's a breeze and now I'm freezing. Off goes my shirt; I sigh as I wring it out.
"Hey, you've got more ink under there."
She touches her fingers to my chest, tracing along the branches and leaves. Before I have a chance to say anything she's pulling up her fucking shirt and I'm about to ask what the hell she's doing before I see something totally unexpected.
Tats. And not just someone's name on a banner between two sparrows or some little trail of stars or pawprints, but an intricate mapwork of tattoos up both of her sides, and one across her stomach.
"Whoa..."
I reach out a hand slowly, expecting her to jerk away. She doesn't, and I trace my fingertips over her skin, trying to discern what was all there. A starry night sky, a hawk, golden roses...
"These are fantastic."
"Yours aren't half bad either."
She grabs my left arm, smiling and tapping my forearm.
"No Face. Nice, I'm a big fan of anime."
"Shut up, you're such a liar."
She laughs and takes my damp shirt from my hands, draping it over a chair in the sun.
"I'm serious."
This is actually going better than expected. Thank you, clumsy feet.
Suddenly, she's inching closer to me. I can feel her breath on my naked chest, can see my reflection in her pupils.
"I think, Matt, that I like you."
"What-"
She cuts me off with a kiss.
Vera motherfucking Grove is kissing me, with my shirt four feet away and her shirt still pulled up and our wind-chilled skin pressed together. No tongue, just the heat of her lips and her teeth tugging on my lip ring. My shivers are no longer from the cold. Finally, she breaks it, panting and licking her lips. I'm the one to smile this time, removing the scrunchie from her hair, finally able to run my fingers through it.
"I think, Vera, that I like you too."