This story will only have one chapter. It's just a oneshot. The idea came to me and I decided that the story should be told, so here are my thoughts for you...from my head to your eyes...
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I'm sitting here, with nothing but paper and a pen, realizing a bit too late, that I really should've thought to bring a book along with me.
Odd right? The girl who's always in the company of a great author leaves Jane Austen home for the night. Well, my methods are far from without reason. So, coming to the aforementioned realization I made the decision to tell, probably none other than myself, about him. He's the reason for a lot of things, my not having a book with me tonight, being only one of many.
I can still see his eyes perfectly, as if they were right in front of me now. That's not something easily forgotten. That color. It's almost strange to be so descriptive, or to try being descriptive about something that you've never had to describe before, something that was just there, waiting for your eyes to explore.
The color of them was so intense...sometimes you almost had to look away so you didn't slip out of your composure. They were so blue they were almost black. He never looked away first. Looking away was backing down from a challenge. He never did that either. You either looked away , or braved the storm and lost yourself in the dark depths of blue fading black.
It seems an oddity now, to be remembering his eyes instead of seeing them staring back at me, reading my own with an ease I could never even imagine.
If right at this moment, I could look up and meet his eyes, looking into mine, I know that I would find a smirk to go along. Another challenge, the knowing smirk.
He knew just what would race through my mind a million miles an hour when I locked eyes with him. He knew almost before I even knew myself.
But his challenges came in more than just looks. The came also, in words and actions. A few choice moments come up from the depths of my memory and fill my mind. I can see it clear as day, hear his voice, even feel the touch of his hands, the strength of his arms, and the jealousy that unwillingly flooded into my head and my heart, as it always did.
--
The shirt he wore that day was navy blue, snug enough on him to show exactly what I wanted to see, but large enough to keep you wanting more. It was the perfect size, and I remember thinking that only he could wear a shirt the way he did.
He walked barefoot on the plush carpet and lowered himself easily into the brown armchair. I watched silently from my own place on the sofa as she walked over to him, pulling herself down onto the chair alongside him and moving closer, working a hand through his soft hair.
He paid her no attention, ignoring both her and the ministrations of her fingers, he wasn't affected by it, he never was. Instead, he looked towards me, feeling eyes on him.
I looked away quickly, twisting my own hands in my lap, wanting so badly for mine to be the ones running softly over his scalp.
In a few moments, both stood as she left the room and his eyes made their way back to meet mine in a knowing look. I knew what he wanted, and he knew I wanted the exact same thing.
The smirk adorned his features again and he raised an eyebrow. I gave a mere shrug, acting as if I couldn't care less, though we both knew it was a lie, and I let a sarcasm laced comment slip from my mouth. "You really seemed to be enjoying that."
His face became serious, but it remained that way for so short a time that I wasn't sure if it even had been, or if perhaps I'd imagined it, before he smirked again.
"You mean you watching me?" He paused to let his tongue dart over his lips, daring me to just stand there, to not move closer. I stood my ground and he gave his nod of approval. "I always enjoy that."
I rolled my eyes and walked past him, giving him a playful shove and slyly snatching the wallet from his back pocket as I did so. He felt the weight of the object slide from his pants and he turned quickly, catching me around the waist and letting his arms wrap all the way around me from behind, half holding me, and half ticking.
The longer he held onto to me the more risque his hands became, searching for his wallet, feigning innocence as he went so far that my breath hitched in my throat. I backed away, turning to face him, seriousness written on my face so blatantly that his smirk faded into a look that told me he knew exactly how hard it was for me to just stand there, to not have his arms around me.
"You're girlfriend is in the next room." I warned him, my voice barely above a whisper, but he only shrugged.
"I don't care." He said, no concern at all for her feelings showing in his face. "You know that." He added and I looked up quickly, locking my eyes on his.
"I'd have to by now wouldn't I." I sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of a door closing. He nodded his head, letting his hand graze over mine softly before returning to his place in the arm chair. I followed suit.
--
It wasn't the first time this had happened, not by a long shot, and we both knew that it was far from the last.
Looking back on it all, I know that it was wrong. I knew it then. He had a girlfriend. I was not that girlfriend. He didn't love her, but he wasn't about to leave her. We both knew that. I did it all of my own free will. I kept his secrets and he kept mine. It was wrong, and it wasn't something I'm proud of, but I loved him. It seemed then, to be the only way, perhaps it was.
--
We had our moments. The times that she left town were always the best ones, always the easiest.
Christmas Eve...we both sat in his car. His hand traced patterns on my knee as he drove and mine worked it's way slowly to where I knew he wanted it.
He stopped, the only thing in the silence was the music, a rap song that I never knew the name of, barely playing in the background.
My lips made contact with his neck, kissing softly. My hand still working, knowing what he wanted.
His arms wrapped tightly around me unexpectedly, pulling me close, hugging me tight. I let my own arms wrap around him, hugging him back in the surprising gesture.
The vibration in his pocket broke us apart. He reached down for it but my hand caught his before he could get to it.
"Leave it." I whispered.
His tongue ran across his lips quickly and he cleared his throat. "Mary..."
"Please." I asked. He nodded.
"Yeah. Okay."
I sighed, leaning back into his arms as he wrapped them around me once again. "Thank you." I whispered and he pressed his lips into my temple softly in response.
--
There were so many times that very closely resembled that Christmas Eve, so many lies that we told, secrets that kept. So many times that his phone rang, and we both knew who it would be.
Maybe now you're thinking, "Mary"? After everything, after the lies and the cheating, after all of it, he still calls you "Mary"?
Well if this thought crossed your mind you should know one, simple fact. We didn't have sex. Never once did we have sex. We came close, too close, a few times. But I always said no. He always asked anyway, already knowing my answer. And the answer, was always no.
I'm sure that some, if not all of you are thinking about his girlfriend. Why is he with her? Don't you realize what you're doing? How did you end up with him, how did you end up like this?
These questions seem, some days, to be the only thing I can think about.
Why is he with her?
That's a question I can't answer. In all honesty, that's a question that Tristan himself can't even answer.
I'm sure that you could even be wondering how in the hell I ended up like this, and like this with Tristan. The only answer I can even think of, is one that explains nothing. I fell in love with him. I don't even have a story to tell. It's simple. I gave him a chance. I fell for him, got scared, ran away. But with Tristan...staying away wasn't an option. Now that I'd had him, I couldn't just let him go. I needed him, and here we are.
I'm trying for the umpteenth time to forget about him, to move on and erase him completely. I'm trying, and failing.
So, do I realize what I'm doing? How could I not? That's my answer for you. I'm helping him cheat on her. That is never right, for any reason. I know that as well as all of you. But, do I think I'm making a mistake? Not in a million years.
Falling it love isn't something that you ask for. It happens to you, and you're never, ever, ready. Love is everywhere and it's both a gift, and it's a curse.
I fell in love...with a boy who's both dangerous and safe, all at once. He's the only person that could ever make me feel perfectly safe, riding in a car one hundred and twenty miles per hour down a highway just by taking my hand.
He isn't perfect, he isn't someone that my mother would love. He's wild and dangerous. He cheats on someone he doesn't love to avoid merely ending it. He smokes, he drinks on occasion. But when I'm with him, I'm safe.
He is far from perfection, but he kisses my forehead. He laces his fingers with mine. He tells me that I'm beautiful. He keeps me safe, he protects me. He loves me...more than anything in this world. And I can't help but love him back. For the person that he is, imperfections and all.
So now, maybe letting Jane Austen stay home for the evening was alright. Maybe to let the world know just a little more about the boy that I fell in love with was something I needed.
I don't mean to try and justify my actions, that cannot, and will not ever be done. I just want them understood.
What I'm doing is wrong, but I'm doing it because I fell in love at the wrong place and the wrong time. But I've learned, and know now, that you can't run away from love. So maybe the saying: All is fair in love and war, is true. The war, just happens to be on the inside, this time.
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There you are...short, and bittersweet. Please review. Hope you enjoyed it.
-K