BEFORE I DIE, I PRAY TO BE BORN | ✓

▬▬ 18

MONDAY
24.09.1990
DORIAN

               'Why is that always in your mouth?'

It takes a moment for me to persuade my eyes back into focus (how long was I zoned out?) and find Isaiah watching me. Lying on the grass while I sit, he has to crane his neck to do so. There's a glimmer in his eyes, an intensity he has diluted until today that makes my cheeks burn.

He raps the end of his pen against his notebook. 'You got an oral fixation or sum? Cause if that's the case, cuz, there are better things for you to suck.'

I drop the Star of David from my tongue. 'What?'

He only laughs and returns to his reading log. Every few seconds, he manages to get his face neutral only to glance at me and grin again, until he eventually draws his lip between his teeth to quell it.

As much as I tell myself not to, I stare at the indents his teeth leave in the plump skin. I want to bite your lip. I want you to bite mine. My spine jerks the moment I have the thought. That's not normal. There's something wrong with me.

I turn away until I can jam my thoughts back onto the right track, then face him again. 'Does it bother you?'

'Does what bother me?' Isaiah asks without looking up.

'That I'm always daydreaming?'

'No.'

'Does it bother you when I ramble on about things you don't care about?'

His eyes flick to mine, slightly squinted from his smile. 'I reckon I'd've told you by now if it did. I've only known you for eleven years.' When I don't reciprocate his amusement, Isaiah softens to sincerity. 'It doesn't bother me.'

I turn to squint at the horizon. September has remained uncharacteristically dry and though only a streak of clouds pales the sky, there's a peripheral chill in the air that promises a cold October. From next week, we'll spend our breaks and free periods in the library.

I pluck a yellowed aspen leaf from the grass and try to half it perfectly along its stem. It tears in an asymmetric quarter instead.

'Is it weird I can't enjoy my food if I don't sit cross-legged?'

'Yeah.' The scrape of his pen doesn't pause as he speaks. 'Ain't nun wrong with it, though.'

Wiping the saliva from my Star of David on my tie, I slip it under my shirt to stop myself from fidgeting with it, only to pick my headphone cord from my chest. I loop it around my fingers to tie a knot, then another within it and another within that. The plastic headband digs into my neck.

'Do you think anyone would date me?' I tug the cord and it unravels.

'I'd date you.'

I frown and turn to him. His hand has frozen mid-sentence though his head remains bowed over his notebook, shielding his expression from me.

'I'm serious.'

'Me too.'

'Well, do you think anyone else would date me?'

He finally looks up. 'I ain't good enough for you? Relax, cuz, that were a joke.' Jabbing me with the end of his pen, he grins, then shrugs. 'Yeah, I think people would date you... What's with all the bizarre questions?'

I return to the horizon. 'Elijah says I'm weird and that girls won't like it.'

'Who cares?' Isaiah still does his best to cling to his joking manner but there's a splinter in his tone.