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Love and Philosophy at Midnight
“So, what’s it going to be? Your resolution for the new year?”
Its past midnight when Drake asks, and they’ve already gone through a truly lame game of truth or dare made up of all truths, and run dry of things to occupy them. Lexie has a dozen lame answers on the tip of her tongue. The type of ones she writes on a piece of paper and loses by the fifth of January.
The wind blows long strands of hair in her face, and it’s colder on the roof than it was thirty-seven minutes ago when they left her mother’s party. Drake lies beside her, bowtie undone around his neck, staring at the sky like he’s waiting for snow. She’d tell him not to hold his breath, but she thinks that if she squints really hard she can see something falling from the sky, like little falling stars.
“I want to not fall in love.”
Drake tilts his head to the side, and grins up at her, and if he looks a little cross-eyed she blames it on the bottle of wine they snuck up here and finished off between them. “Don’t most people usually wish for the opposite?”
She shrugs, and stares across the roof. When she was younger she and her mother used to spend hours up here, but that was before. It’s been ages since then.
“Yeah, well, I’m sick of love.”
“Why’s that?” She feels his eyes tracing over her, as if he's trying to memorize what he see's.
“Love doesn’t last.” She can’t see the moon in the sky, because it’s cloudy out, but she searches for it anyways. “It’s one of those things that always goes away. More trouble than it’s worth.”
“That doesn’t sound a lot like love.”
Lexie smiles and thinks of her father’s new girlfriend, and his million reasons for not being here tonight. Of Connor and the open relationship, she’s supposed to be ready to close again the moment he’s back. The fact that she and her mother can’t string together more than three sentences between them when trying to have conversation.
“Yeah, well it’s the only kind of love I’ve ever known.’’
“That’s sucks.” He say’s it so matter of fact she laughs, or tries to, but she can’t really look him in the eye. It's not something she's proud of.
“You know,” he says, so low she has to strain to hear it, “I can’t stop you from falling in love with the wrong kind of love, but I can help you find something better. How about I make that my resolution?”
Drake’s hand is warm as it cups her cheek and she closes her eyes as his head moves closer towards her.
“And how exactly,” she mutters,” does this help either of our resolutions?”
“Just starting out the new year right,” he whispers against her mouth, and his breath warms her face. “Happy New Year, Lexie.”
Kissing Drake grounds Lexie in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. She no longer feels like she’s falling, but she still hopes it won’t hurt to hit the ground.