I walked over to the treadmills and joined you. “You gotta stop staring at me.” You said “You have to stop spying on me as I change.” I said �...�You shouldn’t stare at yourself in the mirror.” You replied “Well now I know for sure you were peeping on me.” I said with a smile “Yeah I was.” You replied nonchalantly“Now I know what you were biting your lip for.” I said “You’re just so observant aren’t you?” You replied as you turned off your treadmill. “Well it’s not hard when it comes to you.” I. Nope just a bleeding bruise. I have like a three inch scab along the top of my head. I stayed awake for two hours to make sure of no concussion then took a Naproxen to make sure I wouldn’t tighten up like a board during the night and other than a little soreness that I still have. That was that.It was a dissonant experience though. People were concerned for me which I’m glad of. The part that confused me was they were acting like this was some sort of major painful injury. I didn’t say anything. You have had ppl try to tear you down, break you, remake you into their idea of beauty, but you just laugh and keep on moving. They don't get that you know who you are. How you made yourself. So there eyes caress you with envy, lust, hate as you walk past the check-in desk, past the wanna-bes, the bible thumpers, the fucking unhappy couples, past the ppl who just can't be fucking true to themselves, to stop infront of the elevator. You find yourself smiling at yourself in the reflection of the. When the band was about 30 seconds into its first song, I felt Kara lean back against me, her head resting against my shoulder. I could smell her hair, sweet and a little flowery. This was maybe going to be a little more than I bargained for.The opening band was kind of techno-dance style, and Kara was swaying in time to the music. I felt her body move against me, her head leaning back against my chest and shoulder, her ass bumping against the front of my jeans. I started getting a hard-on.
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