Shared Crush
written by: Andy Cooper
Smoke mingled with dim lights.
Hip hop spilled through ceiling speakers.
A neon “OPEN” sign glowed in the window.
A dark canopy fit the sky,
stars poked through.
Lydia and I sipped dark beer,
sorted nuts between us,
while a TV played basketball.
We made light of the single life—
childhood friends,
different circles,
same secret crush.
“How would she look?” Lydia said, sipping.
“That game again?” I rolled my eyes.
“Go on,” she said, grinning.
“I’d help her change her tire.”
“Tell me more.” She sipped, shifted.
“I’d change her tire,” I said.
Lydia narrowed one eye.
“She’d fall for you?”
“We’d hit it off.”
“That’s too easy,” she said.
I laughed. “It’s hard.”
“What would she look like?”
I smoked, flicked ash.
“Her red hair would drape her face,
her freckles would hide on her cheeks.
She’d be just my height—maybe taller.”
Lydia had an inch on me.
She chuckled,
finished her beer.
“She’d trust me despite
her doubts.
We’d share dark humor,
regret nothing,
grow with every kiss,
dread a day apart,
hike mountain trails,
fall for trust,
outgrow old lust.
She’d be—”
She touched her chest. “You’re–”
“Describing you,” I told Lydia.
“And I’m describing you,” she said,
catching a tear.
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