“Sorry.”
The text came in late. I was expecting it, and it made my heart ache. I didn’t want him to be sorry. I asked if he had made it home safe. He had. I told him not to be sorry.
The text came in late. I was expecting it, and it made my heart ache. I didn’t want him to be sorry. I asked if he had made it home safe. He had. I told him not to be sorry.
“Have to.
Inappropriate.”
“So sorry.”
“Won’t do
that again.”
But I
wanted him to. I did with all my heart.
He asked
me if I wanted to kiss him. I exhaled
slowly. We were sitting in his car after
the pub closed. I only live three blocks from
where we were, but he offered a ride home and I wanted more time with
him. It was dangerous. I simply feel more alive even when he’s just in
the same room.
“Yes. I
do.” I almost couldn’t make eye contact.
“But I can’t.”
I got out
of the car. “I really want to, but I can’t.”
I went
inside. His text came shortly after.
No comments:
Post a Comment