Momentous
I had his heart
A sexy smirk.
He walked around with one plastered on his face like it was its default setting.
His left arm was completely tattooed with veins and exposed muscle. The ink crept across his chest like tentacles and stopped at the centre; a mesmerizing piece of art.
At three o’clock last year, in that first moment of summer vacation after senior year, he’d ripped off his shirt in front of the class and a girl passed out. Whoever gave him the tat should’ve gotten a bonus for realism.
But that sexy smirk was what fascinated me.
That and the way he’d direct it at me whenever he walked into a room.
*
My back pressed up against the concrete wall and my ass on the cold pavement of the alleyway, and he asked me, “Can you spare one?”
I held out my packet of cigarettes.
He had his own light.
“Blair, right?” he asked after taking that first beautiful drag and slumping against the wall next to me.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Taylor.”
“I know.”
Cue the sexy smirk and the cocky way he said, “So you have noticed me.”
“Hard not to. You’re a fucking show-off.”
He brushed away his shaggy black hair and laughed.
“Well not all of us can play guitar like a boss. I’m just doing what I can with what God gave me.”
“Was that a compliment in there?” I turned and asked him with a smirk of my own.
“Absolutely,” he replied then blew a cloud of smoke right in my face.
*
He was the kind of guy who had stretchers in his ears and drank beer on the weekends.
And he had the sexiest smirk.
I told him so the first time he kissed me.
He was squirming beneath me ten minutes later as I ran my hand over his bare chest while I fucked him.
He told me I was the kind of guy who said nothing and said everything.
And that I had his heart.
*
It was the first time I’d been to a party in months, and if I were single, I could’ve reaped the benefits of the girls hanging on me post-gig.
That and if I were into girls.
When I found Taylor he was drinking a beer on the porch and I was blissfully drunk.
That was when he told me that I didn’t need him.
I just held his hand and said I loved him.
I think that made him happy, because he said it back.
*
A sexy smirk was absent on his face.
“Do you love me?”
“Of course,” I told him as I crossed my bedroom to comfort my distressed boyfriend.
“She was talking about you today.”
“Who?” I asked with a frown as I took his hands in mine.
“Greta, from work.” The sister of my ex.
“What did she say?”
“That he still wants you.”
“So? Jake can eat his heart out. What else did she say?”
He didn’t meet my eyes.
“She said some stuff about what you guys used to do.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled Taylor tight.
“Greta just likes talking shit.”
He rested his head on my shoulder and said, “We’re momentous, you and me. We’re alive right now, and it could end at any second.”
“I think you mean momentary.”
He told me I didn’t understand.
*
I don’t remember exactly when things changed, but they did.
And when I say things, I mean Taylor.
“Can we fuck now?”
“Yeah.”
So we would.
Again, and again.
I was perpetually exhausted, but that smirk would get me every time – even though it got more desperate and less sexy every time I looked at him.
His heart would beat faster and faster every time we slept together. I didn’t think much of it.
*
He came home with a new addition to his tattoo one day after a week of not letting me touch his chest.
A heart now completed the spidery-picture. Not the cute ones little girls draw all over their notebooks, but the gross, raw, beating kind.
And my name was tattooed on the aorta.
I loved it beyond belief.
*
We were eating, leaning against the kitchen counters when he told me that we were momentous again.
I asked him what he actually meant by that.
“We’re like this one moment. It could end at any second. But this moment is so fucking important and it means everything.”
I pretended I understood and wasn’t caught between the meanings of two different words.
*
We were in the park when he collapsed.
When his heart gave out, and that sexy smirk was eternally fixed on his face, we were in the park.
And I did understand.
He walked around with one plastered on his face like it was its default setting.
His left arm was completely tattooed with veins and exposed muscle. The ink crept across his chest like tentacles and stopped at the centre; a mesmerizing piece of art.
At three o’clock last year, in that first moment of summer vacation after senior year, he’d ripped off his shirt in front of the class and a girl passed out. Whoever gave him the tat should’ve gotten a bonus for realism.
But that sexy smirk was what fascinated me.
That and the way he’d direct it at me whenever he walked into a room.
*
My back pressed up against the concrete wall and my ass on the cold pavement of the alleyway, and he asked me, “Can you spare one?”
I held out my packet of cigarettes.
He had his own light.
“Blair, right?” he asked after taking that first beautiful drag and slumping against the wall next to me.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Taylor.”
“I know.”
Cue the sexy smirk and the cocky way he said, “So you have noticed me.”
“Hard not to. You’re a fucking show-off.”
He brushed away his shaggy black hair and laughed.
“Well not all of us can play guitar like a boss. I’m just doing what I can with what God gave me.”
“Was that a compliment in there?” I turned and asked him with a smirk of my own.
“Absolutely,” he replied then blew a cloud of smoke right in my face.
*
He was the kind of guy who had stretchers in his ears and drank beer on the weekends.
And he had the sexiest smirk.
I told him so the first time he kissed me.
He was squirming beneath me ten minutes later as I ran my hand over his bare chest while I fucked him.
He told me I was the kind of guy who said nothing and said everything.
And that I had his heart.
*
It was the first time I’d been to a party in months, and if I were single, I could’ve reaped the benefits of the girls hanging on me post-gig.
That and if I were into girls.
When I found Taylor he was drinking a beer on the porch and I was blissfully drunk.
That was when he told me that I didn’t need him.
I just held his hand and said I loved him.
I think that made him happy, because he said it back.
*
A sexy smirk was absent on his face.
“Do you love me?”
“Of course,” I told him as I crossed my bedroom to comfort my distressed boyfriend.
“She was talking about you today.”
“Who?” I asked with a frown as I took his hands in mine.
“Greta, from work.” The sister of my ex.
“What did she say?”
“That he still wants you.”
“So? Jake can eat his heart out. What else did she say?”
He didn’t meet my eyes.
“She said some stuff about what you guys used to do.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled Taylor tight.
“Greta just likes talking shit.”
He rested his head on my shoulder and said, “We’re momentous, you and me. We’re alive right now, and it could end at any second.”
“I think you mean momentary.”
He told me I didn’t understand.
*
I don’t remember exactly when things changed, but they did.
And when I say things, I mean Taylor.
“Can we fuck now?”
“Yeah.”
So we would.
Again, and again.
I was perpetually exhausted, but that smirk would get me every time – even though it got more desperate and less sexy every time I looked at him.
His heart would beat faster and faster every time we slept together. I didn’t think much of it.
*
He came home with a new addition to his tattoo one day after a week of not letting me touch his chest.
A heart now completed the spidery-picture. Not the cute ones little girls draw all over their notebooks, but the gross, raw, beating kind.
And my name was tattooed on the aorta.
I loved it beyond belief.
*
We were eating, leaning against the kitchen counters when he told me that we were momentous again.
I asked him what he actually meant by that.
“We’re like this one moment. It could end at any second. But this moment is so fucking important and it means everything.”
I pretended I understood and wasn’t caught between the meanings of two different words.
*
We were in the park when he collapsed.
When his heart gave out, and that sexy smirk was eternally fixed on his face, we were in the park.
And I did understand.