casually reading in bed. I quickly scanned for anything embarrassing: Zumba DVDs, feminine hygiene products, pimple creams, my stash of Sara Mclachlan CDs. You were up against your car smoking a cigarette like a goddamn album cover. “You look pretty.” You exhaled your smoke to the starry sky. I tried not to swoon. “So do you. Want to come in?” “It’s cold out here.”
Inside, you picked up a boxed set of movies from the top of my bookshelf. “Vampires, eh?” you said, leaning in and brushing your teeth against my neck. “Guilty pleasure.” I pulled you onto my bed. We kissed and fooled around for hours, but there was no condom, and you said, “It’s better this way.” “What do you mean?” “It’s early. Sex always ruins things.” “But I want to.” “But we can’t.” I rolled off of you and pushed my hair back from my face. I sighed.
Short fiction by Jared Yates Sexton, Amanda Miska, Paul Hamilton and Robert James Russell.