Seventeen

The shape of his chin lingers in my memory. The taste of his lips seep into every drink caught in my throat. Clouds remind me of the shapes of his body. The curves like diamonds, the softness like his tongue.
His fingers tangle in mine constantly. My heart leaps from nervous, to frustration, to shattered in under a five minute radius. I look at him, search in his eyes, and wonder who he will marry, who will be the girl caught in his palms. I know it’s not me. But right now, while I’m kissing him softly, I pretend to be. I imagine a white dress. Wine flowing in guests’ mouths. A bouquet wrapped around my hands. His grin as I enter the paths of our lives, swirling with friends and family. An enormous church where God looks down upon us in happiness. My hair dripping down the sides of my face. A single kiss that unites us for eternity…
And then I wake up. His acne leaving grease on my lips. His smile only half of what it will be once he is grown. My eyes strangle his. Love is tossed in our mouths, sloshing back and forth between cavities and left over fast food.