it was as if we knew
we had to drink all we could drink
to cross the almost visible line
between your space
hovering and heavy
and mine.
the floor was gritty
covered with dust
crumbs
cat hair.
you blamed it on your roommate
a faceless "kate" i'd never met
but i knew it was only you
who slept there.
your voice was thick with apology
awkward
almost (if i didn't know better) shy
when you offered me a seat next to you on the rug.
i figured you still didn't have much furniture
and sitting on the bed
would have been too obvious.
our backs pressed against the white-washed wall
two bright blotches
in our almost-matching blue tee-shirts-
mine lighter
yours darker.
arms crossed, resting on our knees
heads down, as if contemplating something
something big and important
something, anything
to keep us from looking up
to keep us from looking at each other.
a case of empties sat between my left knee
and your right.
twelve bottles
still rattling.
two hours
that passed like seconds.
you looked over at me in slow motion
the strong lines of your face blurring
softening, questioning
the way only you can.
your eyebrow shooting up
your grin crooked, bumpy
your cheeks red like wine.
it was as if you were surprised
to find yourself, well, drunk.
you laughed then
full-bodied
and confident enough for both of us
and grabbed the waiting hand from my lap.