by Yvonne Yu
After he comes I tell him that I’ve met men who won’t kiss me after I blow them. He laughs with all his teeth and tells me that’s the least he can do and it’s the right answer. At the end of the night I tell him not to fall in love with me, and I immediately feel stupid. I don’t want him, but I care if he doesn’t want me, either.
Six subway stops away is a good distance. He can eat Chinese food with me in bed, dropping lo mein on his stomach, and still make the last train. There’s a twenty-four hour CVS across the street where I go for soda and snacks and Plan B if I need it. They sell eight different kinds of lube there now, but he doesn’t like any of them. If we’re out he’d rather work at rubbing and lapping at me until he can slide inside. He’s only okay in bed but he will hold me afterwards and tell me I’m beautiful and while he dries on my skin I can imagine what it might be like to fit together.