Skittles

I could feel her hot breath on my neck as I turned my head to hear her better.

“This is so sad,” she whispered. I craned my neck to try and see the screen better, but the man that sat in front of me wouldn’t move.

“Yes,” I breathed, “Do you want to go?” She moved closer to me and I felt my breath hitch. I could feel her chest touching mine, and I thought my chest would burst open with all the excitement.

“Yes,” she murmured. We stood up and shuffled our way out of the aisle, to the exit of the theatre. I had my sights set on the door, but she dragged me to the concession stand.

“I want skittles.” I sighed, and pulled out my wallet as I stepped forward. The rainbow seemed almost ironic, this being my first date with a girl. The boy who wore the apron behind the stand gave us a wink, and I turned, feeling ashamed.

“It’s okay,” she whispered in my ear. She squeezed my hand and I took the money out of my wallet.

“One packet of skittles, please.” I dropped the bills on the stand and he threw the skittles at me.

“Have a nice day,” he scoffed. We walked out of the theatre, and sat on the bench outside. As we shared the skittles, tears began to fall down my face.

“Hey,” she spoke as she stroked the drops off my face. “It’s okay. He doesn’t matter.” She held me in her hands, and tilted her head. Her lips touched mine, and suddenly, I found the truth in her words. He didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when we were together. Kissing her didn’t feel like an explosion of light, in the way that everyone had always told me. It was a sweet darkness, and I found comfort in her. She tasted like skittles.