Girls Kissing Girls #25

Lucy rolls past storefronts on her skateboard, knees loose, headphones bumping low. She misses the station wagon reversing until the grille is right there. Ellen stomps the brake, too late, and metal kisses concrete with a clean crack. Lucy lands on asphalt, blood starts to well at her kneecap. Ellen claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She kills the engine, shoulders her purse, and hurries over. “Shit. I wasn’t watching, I’m sorry—come inside, please?” The knee is already streaked red. Lucy takes the offered hand, limps after her, skateboard tucked under one arm. In the kitchen light Ellen’s cool fingers pinch open a cotton pad and dab the scrape. A small sting, a quiet hiss. When the band-aid is sealed flat, Ellen spots the iPod on the marble. “Can I hear?” Lucy lifts the earbuds, slips one into Ellen’s ear, one into her own. A lo-fi bass line rolls through copper wire and skin. They stand close, foreheads nearly touching, sharing a heartbeat that isn’t their own. Ellen’s smile flicks shy at the edges. Lucy’s eyes settle, heavy and sure. She tips forward, catches Ellen’s lower lip, and draws the kiss open, slow, until the song swallows whatever is left of the distance between them.