East Avenue
5
“You’re staring.”
He cleared his throat and the loveliest shade of pink scattered across his cheeks, head ducked down to the folded hands in his lap. “Yeah, sorry.”
Joey, decidedly, was fascinating to me. Never boring, never fully readable. Maybe that was something I liked most about him, the fact that I could never fully figure him out. Not stupid no, but I still found him hard to understand. Always interesting to look at, this lack of repulsion made Joey inviting. He’s been my friend for so long it’s almost a game to me now, to try and find some imperfection, something that’s wrong with him. I’m used to it. I never win the game, I don’t plan to. The curve of his nose, the shape of his lips, the tired eyes that were occasionally sad when he thought I wasn’t watching. Short, shaggy brown hair- he was merely Joey. Such a constant in my life, I couldn’t comprehend a day without him. This didn’t mean anything, not in the way he’d maybe like it to. We were at his house today.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
I smiled briefly, “There’s this one on Netflix I saw earlier, a doc-”
“A movie that’s not a documentary on the following: the Romans, the history of sex, the United States economy, or fossilization.” He laughed at my expression. “Come on,” he nudged me, my skin burning where his knee had touched the middle of my thigh, “Lord of the Rings!”
“You’re a child.”
“You’re boring. And-” He began, “You lose.”
The movie started and I felt my mind grow anxious immediately because I wasn't allowed to care about things that weren't intellectual, I didn't want to focus enough to the point where I'd panic. I turned to gaze on the lines across the inside of Joey’s palm, his hand resting upwards on his leg as though subconsciously waiting for something. I think he was lonely.
He cleared his throat and the loveliest shade of pink scattered across his cheeks, head ducked down to the folded hands in his lap. “Yeah, sorry.”
Joey, decidedly, was fascinating to me. Never boring, never fully readable. Maybe that was something I liked most about him, the fact that I could never fully figure him out. Not stupid no, but I still found him hard to understand. Always interesting to look at, this lack of repulsion made Joey inviting. He’s been my friend for so long it’s almost a game to me now, to try and find some imperfection, something that’s wrong with him. I’m used to it. I never win the game, I don’t plan to. The curve of his nose, the shape of his lips, the tired eyes that were occasionally sad when he thought I wasn’t watching. Short, shaggy brown hair- he was merely Joey. Such a constant in my life, I couldn’t comprehend a day without him. This didn’t mean anything, not in the way he’d maybe like it to. We were at his house today.
“Wanna watch a movie?”
I smiled briefly, “There’s this one on Netflix I saw earlier, a doc-”
“A movie that’s not a documentary on the following: the Romans, the history of sex, the United States economy, or fossilization.” He laughed at my expression. “Come on,” he nudged me, my skin burning where his knee had touched the middle of my thigh, “Lord of the Rings!”
“You’re a child.”
“You’re boring. And-” He began, “You lose.”
The movie started and I felt my mind grow anxious immediately because I wasn't allowed to care about things that weren't intellectual, I didn't want to focus enough to the point where I'd panic. I turned to gaze on the lines across the inside of Joey’s palm, his hand resting upwards on his leg as though subconsciously waiting for something. I think he was lonely.