Hey!
O.K., I'm kinda excited about this story, but I'm only going to continue if I get at least 2 reviews! So please, review! It really makes my day.
Oh, and Tiny Pterandon12, I love you, seriously. She's the only one who has commented on my other story, and I love her for it.
So here's a shout out Tiny, and seriously go read her stories too. She's an amazing writer.
Now, on with the story!
I know I can't take one more step towards you
Cause all that's waiting is regret
"Hey Nat!"
"James!"
A blisteringly cold burst of air rushed through the Drunk Tank as a handsome, broad shouldered man with tussled blonde hair strode casually towards the two of them. "I thought you'd be here." Natara quickly whipped her head away from Mal, and smiled lovingly up at him, clutching one of James' hands in hers. Mal's features roughly screwed up into a grimace as he bent down and lightly brushed his lips against Natara's supple, rosy ones. He gently cupped her protruding cheek and Natara grinned, smoothing her fingers across his thick golden hair and pressing her lips deeply against his.
Gagging inwardly, Mal diverted his eyes to the grey tiles on the floor and swiveled his stool roughly in the other direction, feeling the familiar twinge in his heart. Closing his eyes, he imagined Natara glancing up at him with the same expression that she had on when she was with James. He imagined running his thick-fingered hands through each sparkling strand of her gossamer hair. He imagined stroking her cheek, tenderly and gently, just feeling the texture of her creamy skin. He imagined her leaning towards him, her waterfall of shining hair tickling his chin, and bringing her lips ever so close to his, imagined feeling her warm breath on his skin…
Mal sharply exhaled, sending a cloud of breath wafting out of his mouth. He shouldn't be having thoughts like these. He knew he shouldn't. Natara had a boyfriend. One she adored, she loved even.
Why couldn't he get that into his skull?
It felt like no matter what he did, he couldn't get her out of his mind. Lying alone at home, lights off, shrouded in a cloak of complete darkness, he thought of her. At the pub with Ken, tuning out the pick-up attempts, he pictured her face in high definition. Even when he was with Natara, it was easy to shut down his ears and just stare at her beautiful face, light dancing on her cheeks. He thought about what she really meant to him, whether they were more than friends, or just friends. He tried to deny any feelings he had for her in vain. He just dreamt of her face.
But he still couldn't help but feel hurt when he recalled upon the fact that she obviously didn't spend late nights pondering about him. She had already chosen. And Mal wasn't the choice
Natara had moved on. Why couldn't he?
Sighing, Mal abruptly jerked himself back to the present and tried to focus on the words Natara and James were exchanging with each other. Together, they were giggling over some stupid joke that James had told her that wasn't even mildly funny. That's true love, he mused mournfully. When you laugh at the jokes they make that don't even make sense.
Mal knew he couldn't make a move. That all his 'fantasies' would have to stay fantasies. Because in the end, he knew that if he did, all that would be waiting for him would be regret.