I mean is the first time I've experimented with this feeling, and I know it has something to do with sex; it is all I can think about when he's around. Yes, I thought about it before, but now it is more frequent. I thought he was going to do something. He acted like he was, but I still waiting, and it had only been an hour since we got back.
My hand is in the same spot on my thigh; I feel him there and many other places.
Why doesn't he just touch me?
I want him so much I feel like crying. I was so sure he was going to kiss me inside the car. When his thumb touched my lip, I turned into a puddle. I'm sick of feeling like this; I can't control myself when I'm around him. I don't even remember half of my conversation with Beck because his hand was touching me, h
"What did you think? That he was going to fall for a nineteen-year-old girl? I mean look at you, you still dress like you're in high school and he's a man Dolores. A man." Note the emphasis on the word man. "Ouch, Lin." "You rather I lie to you?" "No, but, couldn't you be a little less mean." "I rather you not go through what I went with Jameson, I would have wanted to know he wasn't going to stick around for the very beginning." Right, that jerk had broken my best friend's heart. "He made me like him." "What are you talking about? You practically undressed him with your eyes since day one." "So did he!" "But my question is," I start clearing my throat. Since they went out on a few dates and Lin didn't reveal anything, I was curious. "Did you see him naked?" There, I asked. Her cheeks turn crimson, and she bites her lip, nodding. Whore. "I saw." "You saw?" "Oh, I saw." "How much?"
THREE YEARS LATER I let myself take the rhythm of the music. I'm trying to follow the beat of my current track and close into the shell that grows around me, leaving all thoughts out and keeping my mind blank as I race over the paved trail. I stomp the ground with force and let the vibration on my calves fill me with the energy I crave whenever I run. I can feel the wind on my face and how it flattens my hair to my skull. It is so short currently that I don't even care about how it looks while I run. It has been one of the best and worse decisions I've made. I smile whenever someone realizes it is me and not some random girl in front of them. It shakes them, and some even hesitate to ask about the change, a change I welcome. I pass the old jogging couple, and I press harder. I'm trying to shed those few pounds I put on my last vacation, totally worth It, I must say. Eating and drinking with, dancing, and enjoying the beauti
I'm standing in the curve waiting for the big red Dodge my dad drives, it has been fifteen minutes, and I'm starting to get desperate. There's also the unforgettable presence of him around me. I thought I had gotten rid of the way he made me feel, the way he abandoned me, but it is all there. I tried clutching my hands to the sides to avoid doing that thing I used to do whenever I felt the piercing ache in my chest. Is all coming back, bits and pieces, good memories and the bad one, that one night. I feel my phone vibrate once more in my back pocket, and I ignore it too. I know is Beck wondering why I haven't replied to his texts. I was about to, but then I didn't want to. I'm having mixed feelings and all because of one single picture. I'm pretty sure he must be laying down on some beach at some exotic place with a beautiful woman with bee-stung lips and curves for days. That image alone makes me angry. All I can do is pull my baseball cap even lower, to the point where I c
I have half-moons in the palms of my hands and can't help but stare at them; I don't remember making a fist so hard that my nails cut through the skin, and now I can see a little red in the tiny marks. I must have pressed for a long time since some parts of my palms are ghostly white while the others are ruby red. He's talking to me. I'm sure he is. His mouth is moving, his eyes keep staring at me, but I hear nothing, there's a buzzer in my head, and I can't understand a word. He still looks as good as I remember. Three years have changed nothing but to make him more tractive. At least I find him more than before. He photographs well, so it is not that; maybe having him in front of me is different. "What are you doing here?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. And I mean here on a train and not some limo or private jet. As soon as it hits me, the talk a
""You left her lock up in a bathroom three years ago." Just like I wanted, my voice came out flat and without feeling. Of course, I didn't want him to think I still cared. It seemed that my words struck home; he shifted uncomfortably in his seat while I took back my cap and pulled it down, covering my hair. "You left," I repeated again and continued to hold his gaze, knowing quite well that I wasn't as strong as I was making him believe that if he hadn't looked away first, I was seconds away from breaking. It did cross my mind once or twice that I could burst into tears any minute, and I for sure was an ugly crier. The awkward silence that followed opened up the overthinking gates and the what-ifs. Relieving the past never got me anything, yet just by a few exchanges of words, I remembered everything, every word, that one kiss. How was it possible that I couldn't shake him off after years?
He's flat on his back on the mattress while she humps up and down over him like a lunatic while she lets out these awful screeches of pleasure, is all wrong, and as much as I want to stop watching it, I can't, I can't peel myself from this sad attempt of some kind of mediocre porn. The continuous moans, grunts, and the slap of bodies and the thrusting of his untanned ass cheeks, which are ridiculously white because now he has made a quick change to doggy. At least with her, he shows some enthusiasm. For the longest time, I sat there watching them. I'm surprised to notice that instead of being jealous and betrayed, I felt disgusted. A little bit of anger since they were going at it over my new overpriced white duvet. How had then not seen a third person standing watching them? I had no idea, so I did the only thing I was able to do; rap my knuckles at the opposite wall and wait until I was heard or noticed. Both freeze
I loathed those words as quickly as they left my mouth. Just hours ago, I struggled to keep away and pledged that I would never require or need someone as I did before. Now, I’m squatting on the cool tiled floor of my tiny one-bedroom apartment, expecting a man that had withdrawn himself from my life years ago. “Please,” I urged. Begging time to run faster, praying for Liam to manifest in front of me. “Dolores?” He sounded strange, but soon the noise quieted down, and the surrounding space seemed to open up. “Where are you?” “At my place. My boyfriend is here. I ordered him to leave, and he’s trashing my bedroom. I can make out things breaking.” Knowing the sound of my voice sounds as terrified as I seem. I told him to come ready for anything that might happen and sent him my address in a quick message. I must have stayed inside the bathroom for the longest time until nothing else broke until he got tired. The noises of the night filtered in, and I em
I'm honestly trying here, making my most exemplary attempt to control my mind, wondering towards the woman who now lives close by I can't understand one word from another. I can't comprehend the summary report I have opened in front of me, and no matter how many times I struggle to read the pie chart, it is just colored with numbers. I guess that the amount in blue means that all is running as steady as it would like. I will be in trouble next week at the quarterly meeting when it is time for me to add something relevant. Someone is going to have to explain this to me. I give up. On my feet once again, I can't control de urge anymore. Every 10 to 15 minutes, I have been checking on her, the last time she had finally fallen asleep, face stained with tears. She's just a little lump on my bed. Elevated by the pillows surrounding her, I can finally see how she looks like while she sleeps. There is no barrier anymore, nothing that stops me from getting closer. Back then,