4.

Hi, everyone.

My mind's a-clutter, & I often forget the things I need to do.

That's a bad habit I've been trying to get rid of for a while now.

I've been inspired to write, besides this exchange I'm engaging in...
& I think I'm going to indulge myself--expect more literature from me.

Anyway, here's round four of Jonathan and my creative writing swap.

The topic of this one is, as said by Jonathan via text:

"You and I go on a date. We go to a strange little place in LA for dinner.
It's awkward. Really awkward. You kind of dislike me. Then we go to a party.
We warm up a little and flirt while dancing under the little china ball lights.

When we get to your house, we almost kiss but don't. Write about our date."

I have to say, this one's my favorite thus far.

Hannah:

here we are, at mao’s kitchen,
awkwardly sitting across from each other.
our table’s the quietest one,
and the laughter around us
only emphasizes our unfamiliarity,
your nervousness,
my discomfort. 

i think i’ve lost my appetite,
and while i push my food around on the plate
i can’t help but to feel grateful for the fact that
i’m not the one paying. 

your attempts to start a conversation,
they make me wonder
how you even managed to ask me to dinner at all.
maybe i’m to blame, maybe i’m shooting you down,
maybe my tone of voice or terse replies aren’t helping.
in any case, i can’t wait to go home,
and i wish i didn’t agree to go to a party after dinner. 

it would be a shot to your heart
if i asked to be taken home,
wouldn’t it? 

the car ride is no different
than the scene at the restaurant.
the music can’t be enjoyed in this tension,
and you resort to small talk
but it’s too late.
the look on your face
just shows how you feel
like you’re in over your head
and you want this unpleasant moment
to hurry up and pass. 

it’s loud in here,
i don’t know anyone,
and i think this is my third jack and coke.
i took a few shots here and there,
and i thank god that at least i’m drinking now. 

i’m feeling hazy,
this party’s not so bad,
and i see you walking towards me.
you have a smile i haven’t seen before,
and the way you blink tells me
that you’ve had a few, too.
you lean in, real close, and whisper
“dance with me”
in my ear and it sends shivers
all the way
d
 o
  w
  n
m
y
spine. 

and we move, a bit awkwardly,
and i say i’ve had too much to drink,
you laugh and you tell me it’s alright,
then, just like that, our bodies are in sync.
just like that, my guards are down
and i start to think
that my night just got better,
that you’re not so bad after all. 

now, you’re walking me up a block,
to my house, and our hands keep bumping,
and i feel you reach for mine—i don’t mind.
our fingers intertwine,
the laughter eases out,
and conversation isn’t an obstacle any more. 

there’s the door,
we’re at the night’s end,
and you lean in for a kiss,
but i laugh and say
“it’s been fun.”
you give me puppy eyes,
and i give you a smile,
leaning in to whisper
“call me.”
before i wink
and go inside.

Jonathan:

1. The Restaurant 

The thing with silence is that you’re not really sure what it means. Is it an uncomfortable one or a comfortable one? Do comfortable silences even exist? How can two interesting and otherwise very vocal people NOT have something to say and it be comfortable? 

My name is Jonathan and I’ve never liked silence. 

Your eyes do your talking for you. 

“What you majoring in?” I ask.
You say, “Art” but your eyes say, “I’d rather be reading.”
“What’d you think of Super 8?” I ask.
You say, “It was cool” but your eyes say, “God take me now.” 

This is a very uncomfortable silence. 

2. Julian’s Party 

The song playing is “Son of a Preacher Man” by Dusty Springfield. 

I’m talking to some friends while you’re making friends with Jack and Coke. 

“Who’s that you’re with?”
“Her name is Hannah,” I say.
“Dude, she’s cute.”
“She’s horrible,” I say. 

Just then you spill your drink all over the floor. 

The song playing is “Tighten Up” by The Black Keys when everyone turns to you. You smile at me and shrug. You’re too cool for this hipster crap. But you’re the biggest hipster I know. 

When we met I remember not really getting you. You talked a lot but you never really said anything. You talked a lot of art and music, but you couldn’t answer what your favorite book was. You knew names and dates, but not feeling. Or maybe the other way around. I can’t remember. I thought you were a chameleon. 

When we met I remember my girlfriend not liking you. Maybe you talked to me a little too closely, or maybe I looked at you a little too long. I remember telling you she didn’t like you, and I remember your smile when you said, “I don’t give a fuck.” 

You’re smiling now and it feels like we’re talking with our eyes.
Your eyes do your talking for you. 

The song playing is “Blue Moon” by Orange and Lemons when I walk up to you. I pull you in but don’t know what to say. 

“Dance with me.” 

We go to the center. And when you put your arms on my shoulder and I put my hands on the small of your back, I can’t help but think of locks and keys. 

“You in a better mood now kid?”
“I wasn’t in a bad mood.”
“Come now. You were Poland and you made me feel like Germany.”
“Hahaha. Okay, okay. I admit it. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Just don’t let it happen again.” 

Right before you think you’re about to kiss someone, there’s that split second of what if I’m reading this all wrong? What if she hates me kind of a thought but it’s okay. You’re half drunk with euphoria of flirting anyway, so who cares? 

Silence as I hold you tighter. You play with the back of my hair. 

This is a very comfortable silence. 

3. The Door 

I lean in for a kiss and you laugh in my face.
“Oh gawd.”
“Hahaha. Stop it’s not like that.”
“Well I dunno. It certainly doesn’t feel like it.”
“Well it’s not.” 

You smile and I try not to explode out of embarrassment. 

“It’s been fun,” you say.
Not it hasn’t. 

“Call me,” you say.
NEVER. I WILL NEVER CALL YOU. 

You smile and put your hand on my cheek. 

“Seriously, call me.”
Well okay. Maybe. 

You wink and leave me alone and on the porch. 

This is just silence. When you’re alone with just silence, you start to miss uncomfortable and comfortable silences. It’s weird isn’t it? I guess we’d all much rather feel something, ANYTHING, than nothing.  

My name is Jonathan and I've never liked silence

Next topic: Write about the first time you lost your virginity/had sex with someone you love.