Brigit's Flame August Week 2
For brigits_flame. I can't believe I made it to week two :O I'm still not quite happy with this entry; comments/constructive criticism are the best.
prompt: "Brilliance"
“Trust me?” Eli smiled and tangled his fingers through hers. The house was dark and despite the thick, sticky heat, Lo had shivered anyways. Her palm felt swollen and clammy against Eli’s; as he squeezed once for good luck, she swore she could feel the veins pop, raised out of the back of her hand like gnarly tree roots sprung from loose soil. “Yeah,” she whispered to the side of his face, and squeezed his hand in return even though her stomach crawled and her legs felt limp. Eli had shut the windows, drawn the blinds; they were alone, wrapped in the sweltering pitch of his room. Lo swallowed hard, silken wings in her belly fluttering. She and Eli had been friends since the days of mud pies, cops ‘n’ robbers in the front yard, bright grass stains that took their mothers weeks to scrub out; the memories scrolled through her mind, glossy color prints from her inner scrap album that seemed to calm her down, releasing flashes of color into the dark.
She did trust him.
He kissed her then, soft, an explosion of heat that rushed from his mouth through her cheeks. Lo pulled back. They were facing each other on his bed, the mattress sunken beneath their weight. “I can’t do this,” she sighed. She could not quite make out the slopes of his face, the high cheek bones and rigid nose, but imagined where his eyes were, the warmest brown eyes she had ever seen. She remembered as kids, the way Eli’s eyes seemed to glow amber in the dusk, stealing the light of the sunset and the fireflies, the tall grass tickling their knees as they sprinted to catch the soaring lights.
He didn’t say anything then and Lo let the silence set in, thick and heady between the layers of heat. She pulled her knees towards herself and sat back against the wall. “I feel really stupid,” Lo offered after a while, to the dark, to someone near her right.
“No - no, I’m really sorry,” Eli replied, softly. Silence between them once more. Eli moved to open the broad-set window behind his bed. A soft breeze stirred the stale air, dim moonlight casting shadows across Lo’s lap.
“Can we - would you let us just start this over again?” he asked, the words muddled. Somehow Lo felt it was her bad that the evening had gone so awry and willingly grasped his open hand as he stepped out the window.
On the roof, the air felt fresh, cool against Lo’s sweat-soaked frame. They crawled out and crouched upon the stiff shingles, overlooking Eli’s backyard.
“Look,” Lo gasped, smiling, “Fireflies.” They swarmed in the night air, a brilliant cloud of earthly stars, and Lo felt once again astounded by their light.
“You remember - ?” Eli asked, laughing a little, and Lo nodded. They sat there for awhile, apart, watching the yellow lights bounce and simmer until they had all faded into dark. Lo bit her lip, lights echoing before her eyes where the insects had previously flown. She and Eli shared days past that she kept etched deep, carbon-frozen in her mind, but she did not know where they were headed, and it scared her. When, at length, Eli lit a cigarette, the flame of his lighter casting an orange glow against Lo’s cheek, she whispered softly, “’Night, Eli,” and clambered back through the window, over the bed and out the house. Her feet retraced well-worn steps to her home next door, a small seam in her heart aching for days long gone and the brilliance of fireflies.
prompt: "Brilliance"
“Trust me?” Eli smiled and tangled his fingers through hers. The house was dark and despite the thick, sticky heat, Lo had shivered anyways. Her palm felt swollen and clammy against Eli’s; as he squeezed once for good luck, she swore she could feel the veins pop, raised out of the back of her hand like gnarly tree roots sprung from loose soil. “Yeah,” she whispered to the side of his face, and squeezed his hand in return even though her stomach crawled and her legs felt limp. Eli had shut the windows, drawn the blinds; they were alone, wrapped in the sweltering pitch of his room. Lo swallowed hard, silken wings in her belly fluttering. She and Eli had been friends since the days of mud pies, cops ‘n’ robbers in the front yard, bright grass stains that took their mothers weeks to scrub out; the memories scrolled through her mind, glossy color prints from her inner scrap album that seemed to calm her down, releasing flashes of color into the dark.
She did trust him.
He kissed her then, soft, an explosion of heat that rushed from his mouth through her cheeks. Lo pulled back. They were facing each other on his bed, the mattress sunken beneath their weight. “I can’t do this,” she sighed. She could not quite make out the slopes of his face, the high cheek bones and rigid nose, but imagined where his eyes were, the warmest brown eyes she had ever seen. She remembered as kids, the way Eli’s eyes seemed to glow amber in the dusk, stealing the light of the sunset and the fireflies, the tall grass tickling their knees as they sprinted to catch the soaring lights.
He didn’t say anything then and Lo let the silence set in, thick and heady between the layers of heat. She pulled her knees towards herself and sat back against the wall. “I feel really stupid,” Lo offered after a while, to the dark, to someone near her right.
“No - no, I’m really sorry,” Eli replied, softly. Silence between them once more. Eli moved to open the broad-set window behind his bed. A soft breeze stirred the stale air, dim moonlight casting shadows across Lo’s lap.
“Can we - would you let us just start this over again?” he asked, the words muddled. Somehow Lo felt it was her bad that the evening had gone so awry and willingly grasped his open hand as he stepped out the window.
On the roof, the air felt fresh, cool against Lo’s sweat-soaked frame. They crawled out and crouched upon the stiff shingles, overlooking Eli’s backyard.
“Look,” Lo gasped, smiling, “Fireflies.” They swarmed in the night air, a brilliant cloud of earthly stars, and Lo felt once again astounded by their light.
“You remember - ?” Eli asked, laughing a little, and Lo nodded. They sat there for awhile, apart, watching the yellow lights bounce and simmer until they had all faded into dark. Lo bit her lip, lights echoing before her eyes where the insects had previously flown. She and Eli shared days past that she kept etched deep, carbon-frozen in her mind, but she did not know where they were headed, and it scared her. When, at length, Eli lit a cigarette, the flame of his lighter casting an orange glow against Lo’s cheek, she whispered softly, “’Night, Eli,” and clambered back through the window, over the bed and out the house. Her feet retraced well-worn steps to her home next door, a small seam in her heart aching for days long gone and the brilliance of fireflies.