Synopsis: This story is an AU based in the USA. It starts 2 years after Serena and Darien have broken up and follows them on their journey to move on, let go, grow up and find new love as adults in the real world. Will our two favorite protagonist find their way back together? Keep reading and find out ;)
"Hey," he says, and before I know it, he is already kissing me, his hands pulling my waist towards him, and I forget we are still standing in front of his house. In one sweeping motion he picks me up and like a reflex I wrap my legs around his waist. When he finally breaks the kiss, he whispers into my ear, "I've missed you."
And I think to myself, I can't remember how it feels like to be missed by someone. Someone not my mom or dad or sister or brother. But someone who doesn't have to miss me at all.
Under the street lamp, everything is golden. Even the black concrete of the road is glistening; wet from the afternoon rain. But I am no longer 16. I don't romanticize how it feels to have a man's strong arm wrapped around me. I don't pretend that his words mean anything more than this. His lips on mine. The promise of bare skin on bare skin.
Because even under the light, the sky is black, and not he nor I could tell you if there was even one star to be seen.
In his bedroom he keeps a bulletin board of miscellaneous mementos. A pencil drawing of a beloved Pokémon character. A photo of his high school varsity tennis team. A birthday card signed in barely legible scrawl "Little Bro". And more recently, a friend's engagement announcement. It was pinned on top of the rest—but still several months old according to the date.
I wondered about the smiling couple. How they met and how long they were together. They had the look of high school sweethearts; the kind of look that said, "We've only known one love." Their smile gave it away; too bright to know the dimmer of unfulfilled teenage expectations. I couldn't stand their confidence.
It's that strange time in my mid-twenties when marriage seems like the perfect linear step to take for everyone else but me. While all my friends are going to go on 5 year anniversary dinners with their boyfriends, I am in the bedroom of a man I hardly know at 2 in the morning; trying to decide if I can put the puzzle pieces of his life together in time before I cross that ultimate threshold; where the only personal history people care about is the kind that can be guarded by a latex shield.
He asks me what I am thinking about, but when I turn around, I am met by the mountain of his back —not a winsome smile or a watchful gaze—but a solid impenetrable wall that I've never climbed before. And I don't know how to answer him. I don't know where to start. I want to ask if he believes that first loves can be last loves but—what do walls know about love?
"I want to know about you," I admitted; watching as he clicked away at his desktop computer.
He groaned. "That's a dangerous topic."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you to fall in love with me," he laid that line like a Nicholas Sparks novel.
I rolled my eyes. Too old and too jaded to be reeled in by that reverse psychology mumbo jumbo. "Are you kidding me?" I quipped; glaring into the back of his head.
"Absolutely not. Do not mistake my intentions. I think you're sexy and I want to sleep with you, but I'm not looking for love."
"I'm not either."
"Good." He is looking at me now. A slow smile drew across his face and I tell my excited heart to relax because, I'm not supposed to feel anything for this guy, but it has a mind of its own so, it thuds fast and hard.
"You said you missed me," I try to say as evenly as I can to match his nonchalant attitude.
"Well it's been a month, hasn't it? From the night I took you to the bar?"
I nod.
"I can miss you, can't I? We had a lot of fun that night."
I am blushing at the memory. Hip to hip. Grinding in perfect unison. I NEVER danced like that. Ever.
At the time, I thought he could've been someone special. I liked the way he was a fountain of facts. He said he retained information really well from watching 60 Minutes TV programs with his mom. That got me. He was the kind of guy who spent time with his mom.
But now as music comes on I realize I am in for more than I bargained for.
"Sorry, I had to compile a playlist," he apologizes. He turns off his desk light, and in the darkness I don't see a single gleam in his eyes as he turns to look at me.
"Lay down," he softly coos, gently patting his unmade bed.
And now, for the first time since I got there, I am beginning to worry. Something about the shadowy outline of his blankets in disarray didn't sit well on my conscience. In the time it took me to drive to his house, he hadn't bothered to smooth them out—not even for me. As I lean into the mattress I feel the wrinkle of every girl before me.
He kneels onto the bed and takes off his shirt. When his lips touch mine, I don't feel his commitment in the kiss. Instead, his hands are pawing at my breasts and before I can protest, he is taking off my shirt, he is taking off my pants, he is putting on a condom—"Just in case," he says. And I think I hear myself say, No, but he replies that the tip is already in and so I let him fuck me.
I tell myself its okay. I tell myself I knew this was going to happen. I HAD to know that it was going to happen—going over to a guy's house at 2 in the morning? It was asking for it. It's just sex, I chanted. It doesn't have to mean anything. It doesn't mean anything at all.
When it is over, he tucks my head under his chin and holds me against his side. "How was it?" He asks.
And I wonder if it matters whether or not I tell the truth or lie because all I can think about is that I don't even know his last name—and it didn't bother me. Not one bit.
Before I leave, the smiling engagement photo taunts me on my way out. Outside, the sky is blacker than before and not even the golden glow of the streetlamp can disguise the feeling of emptiness all around. As I get into my car I dig into my coat pocket for my cellphone and look for "Do Not Call" in the address book and press the dial button.
The line begins to ring on the other end. I seatbelt and start the car. It has been almost a year and a half. It rings again. I exhale slowly and pull the car away from the curb. We were once the smiling faces of high school sweethearts. I recall the break up as vividly as if it happened yesterday. It rings for the third and final time. I am turning onto the main road. Realization is now dawning on me that I have finally slept with someone else than Darien and I don't know if I should weep or celebrate—because this is what grown women do when they get over a man, right?
Just as I was about to end the call, a voice sprang clearly from the speaker, "Serena? It's late—" I hear him groan as he checks the time. "What's up?"
"Hey…." I said, appreciating the way Darien's voice shined clearly even through the darkness. "I've missed you."
Final Notes: Please review and let me know what you think about the story. Your input will help me greatly in further writing and expanding the story. Much love from me to you all :D Review, review, review!