He sat on the curb beside me, acting as if I didn’t exist just like he had done for the whole night at the party. Even though I hadn’t wanted to go, he’d convinced me and then ignored me until everyone had left except the two of us. I’d followed him out and waited with him even though I could have walked home. It was pretty late, so I guess he thought talking to me would wake the sleeping families in the nearby apartments.

Then, for a moment, he looked at me as if he’d just then realized I was there. His gaze dove deep into the black pits of my pupils; he was on a fruitless treasure hunt which brought him nothing but more confusion.

“I’m glad you came,” he said into the wind. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”

“Me too,” I lied absently. The tip of his cigarette glowed orange as he inhaled, and I watched it, mesmerized.

Distracted, I spoke my next words quickly. “I’ve missed you,” I told him. He looked at me again, streams of white smoke escaping through his nose and dissolving into the air around us.

“Yeah,” he said. A little more smoke danced over his lips as he spoke, and he took another drag. “You should call me more.”

“You’re always busy,” I said, but I didn’t know if he’d heard me because a car passed us, sputtering up fumes that mixed noxiously with the smoke in the air.

“I have to work. Do you want me to quit or something?” His voice was bitter and frustrated, and I didn’t reply. We turned silent. I heard music coming from the diner down the street. I thought it might be Fats Domino, but I wasn’t sure. I knew he’d know but I didn’t ask.

After a moment, he looked at me and I instantly turned my head away. I stared at the gutter, the leaves clogging the sewer grate, and the crumpled newspaper stuck beneath them that fluttered a little in the wind but couldn’t break free.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his slicked back hair that shined like the regret in his eyes. “You know this can never work,” he said, his voice softer and more compassionate. “We both know that, and we knew it when we started.” He sighed with resignation. “I don’t even know why we try anymore.”

Again, I didn’t reply.

A silent minute or so later, I felt his hand cover mine. I didn’t look up, knowing well enough the tactics he used to keep me near even when he pushed me away. But then I felt his fingers move and pry mine off the cement behind me so that they could intertwine.

It was so discrete that if anyone had passed they wouldn’t even know we were touching.

I looked up at him and he took another drag off his cigarette and squeezed at the same time. The orange glowed. Our eyes met.

“There’s no one around,” I said quietly. He scanned the area for a moment and nodded understandingly.

“Yeah,” he said.

My eyes were anxious, desperate. I moved close to him.

“Please,” I breathed.

There was a brief pause filled with thought and tension.

“Quickly,” he whispered. My heart jumped and with no delay at all we leaned in and let our lips touch for the most brilliant moment I’d had since the last time we’d kissed, more than a week ago. Less than a second later, we returned to sitting as if nothing had happened.

My face was warm and I was shaking inside and out. “That was wonderful,” I said breathlessly. He nodded once again but said nothing. I felt his pulse in my hand.

He flicked the butt to the ground, and it rolled a few inches before stopping and dying with a trickle of smoke in the breeze.

A few minutes later, the brand new cherry red 1957 Chevy rolled up and stopped in front of us. The person driving beeped the horn and I lost the warmth of his touch. The backdoor swung open and a girl with a high pony tail and a long wide skirt stepped out.

“Hey guys,” she said. “You been waiting long?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” he said and stood, greeting her with a quick kiss on the lips. How something so casual felt so miraculous to me just a moment earlier seemed so cruel and sardonic that I almost chuckled. “Let’s get out of here.”

She looked at me. “You need a lift, Mike?” she asked, taking the hand that had held mine only moments before. I shook my head.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’m right down the road; I can make it by foot.”

“Are you sure? You look a little tired.”

I smiled. “I’m fine. I’ll see you two at school.”

He looked into my eyes again. Our gazes touched more intimately than any physical interaction could be.

“See you later, man,” he said.

I turned and walked away. From behind me, even through the din of the car, I could hear the girl whisper to the man I loved, “Is Mike okay? He’s been acting strange lately.” And then I was too far away to hear him respond.