I Think They Happen By Accident

Happiness is having a cute boy who kisses and cuddles just as well as he fucks you up the ass. It can’t be just any cute boy. Most of the time a cute girl will be better for you; girls are soft and smooth and civilized, but the right boy is, too, and the right boy is perfect. You want one of those shy, subculture boys, just a little awkward, the kind full of songs that nobody’s heard and foods that nobody’s eaten, dreams that nobody believes and books that nobody reads. Mine is named Rio. It even feels right, Ree-yo, stroking your tongue stroking back along the roof of your mouth, then flicking forward, making your lips purse just a little, like the memory of a kiss. You want a boy like Rio, with an honest, easy smile and sleep-mussed hair, bright, clear eyes and a cute girl’s butt in snug-fit pants, a boy who loves to writhe beneath you as much as he likes to hold you down. There’s nobody better in the world.

I think they happen by accident.

Mine was almost invisible when I met him. Rio likes to sit at the café, curled up like a little china cat in one of those big, plush chairs. He gets to watch that way, undisturbed, taking the moments between sips of chocolate to scribble his thoughts to paper. We didn’t even speak that evening. I just felt him watching me, I think. That’s all, really; I turned for a moment, all it took to catch him watching me over the edge of his notebook. It lasted for a second, maybe a very little more, just long enough to look past his long, dark bangs. He had the bluest eyes, warm, Caribbean blue, and I couldn’t help but stare. In a storybook world it would have been love at first sight, but it wasn’t, not even lust, just curiosity, just wonder at eyes so clear and pure.

He just smiled at me, brushing the hair away from those beautiful eyes. He cocked an eyebrow, amused, and ducked back behind his notebook’s marbled-black covers.

I caught him looking, one more time, his head canted just slightly to one side, but he blushed and hunched down into his book again, looking even smaller than before. When I looked back, later, he was gone.