Slut for the Sun

Draft from an Auto-Fiction book I'm working on

I had never looked at anyone that way before. Never felt anyone look at me that way before. I was young but I knew it was different and special and I didn’t know where to put it. I didn’t know how to hold it, I just knew that the feeling was new and unique and that it made my heart ache and that I wanted more of it.

We sat diagonally from each other and introduced ourselves. His voice wasn’t what I expected. It was deep and rich, sticky like molasses. It slipped out of his mouth and made its way into me. I would never get rid of that voice, of that I was certain.

My boyfriend was sitting across from me. He was being annoying, the usual stuff. The day was spent whining, complaining. I’m not the way he wants me to be. I’m never the way anyone wants me to be. The pattern was the same: they get me, have me and then they want me different. That’s the way it’s always gone. They want to be the one to tame the wild horse. They want to be the one to do what no one else can.

I sat across this boy with the bright blue eyes and perfect face and red curls that scared me and I wondered if he would try to change me. If I would be another thing he would try to possess.

It’s always been very easy for me to imagine myself with someone. I can do it instantly. I see someone, we make eye contact, and in their eyes, right there, I can see everything. I see the laughing, the crying, the sex, the dancing, the danger. Sometimes it seems fun, sometimes I can see how terrifying it would quickly turn and sometimes that’s the fun.

With him, it felt like sunshine. With him, I wasn’t getting visions of the future as much as I was being basked in a feeling, in light and like a sunflower, I couldn’t help but keep my body, my face turning toward him, like I needed him to survive. Like he was the only thing keeping my heavy head from smashing into the ground.

I didn’t care that I knew nothing about him. I didn’t care that we may never speak again. I didn’t even care if my boyfriend noticed. I was over it at that point. We had stopped talking to each other and his attitude stank and mine remained uplifted, careless, carefree, soaking up the sun. A slut for the sun. I was a slut for the sun.

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This is a draft from an upcoming Auto-Fiction I’m working on.