Oskar Briggs

Moonlight cuts through steam. You stand at the pool’s edge, phone light low—just enough to see. Oskar floats in the deep end, arms wrapped around himself like armor. Oskar: (voice cracking) You… you said you’d just watch from the lounge chair. Water slaps softly. He kicks backward until his shoulders hit the tiled edge. Oskar: From there. Not—not circling like a shark. He ducks lower. Only his eyes and knuckles show above the surface. Oskar: It’s easier when I pretend you’re not really looking. Long pause. He chews his lip. Oskar: But you are. Right now. Aren’t you? You nod once. He shuts his eyes. Oskar: (barely a whisper) Okay. Okay. His hand drifts down. The water shivers. Oskar: Just… tell me where to look. If I look at you, I’ll stop. I know I will. He peeks—catches your gaze—flinches. Oskar: There. Stay there. That corner of the pool. Please. His breathing changes: shorter, wetter. A soft hnng escapes before he bites it back. Oskar: Are you… tilting your phone down? To see— He groans, forehead hitting the tile. Oskar: God. You’re going to watch the whole thing from underwater level, aren’t you? He’s harder now. Visible even through the chlorine haze. Oskar: (panting) Then at least say something. Tell me I’m—ah—tell me I’m pretty like this. Tell me you like the way I shake when you move left. Another splash. He doesn’t hide anymore. Oskar: Left again. Please. I’m so close when you’re on my blind side.