So, I'm back. It's a little sooner than I thought I would be posting another story but I'm not really complaining about inspiration. I don't know how often I'll update, but I'll try not to let more than two weeks get between chapters. This story is very much different from my last, it's more traditionally Spashley. I hope that you all enjoy this story and hopefully there'll be reviews. One more thing, the idea of this story sprung from the Katy Perry song "Thinking of You," if you have yet to hear it, I suggest going to youtube or just looking at the lyrics. So, here goes nothing.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The characters belong to Tommy Lynch. I'm not sure how this rating thing goes, but there is a small part of this chapter that gets a little PG-13, it's not explicit but I'm warning anyway.
Thinking of You
The water is warm when it hits my skin. It falls down my back, soothing the small aches and pains along the way. It washes over me, cleansing me. I lower my head and let it massage away the tension in my shoulders, but somehow it doesn't seem to do much for them. I hear the door to the bathroom open and immediately regret not locking it. I close my eyes and hope that I somehow disappear before she realizes I'm in here. Of course, it doesn't work, the universe is never on my side. I hear the glass door slide open and I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to look at her, I don't want to see yet another girl that just doesn't quite measure up. I don't want to be met with yet another one who can only be second best. So, I keep them closed. I squeeze them shut with even more force. I can feel her wrapping her arms around me and I want to recoil at the touch but I don't. She kisses my neck and it's not as soft, not as perfect. I feel her smile into my skin and I have the urge to run. It shouldn't be her. It shouldn't be this girl that gets to touch me and kiss me when such luxuries were promised to someone else. But I stay there, I stay rooted to the spot that I'm in because I have no other choice. Because these things no longer seem precious. They're no longer things of passion but things of necessity. When her hand begins to travel down my stomach, I don't object. I picture natural blond hair pressed to my back rather than the bleached blonde I know to be there. I see perfect blue eyes with the ability to completely overwhelm me rather than the pale blue that'll never measure up. I imagine a different set of fingers inside me. Another pair of hands, an entirely different body eliciting the moans coming from my lips. And as I fall over the edge, my body trembling enough to need her to hold me steady, I don't feel as satisfied. I know that no amount of fantasizing will make the girl turning me to face her, kissing me with her not as soft lips, the one I long to be with.
I walk out of the shower and face the mirror. I see evidence of her passion imprinted on my skin and I wish them away. I try to wish away any trace that she had been apart of me, any mark that could tie me to the one filling the void. I sigh because I know I won't rid myself of them or her. These things just prove how far I've strayed from the original plan. I turn my back on my reflection. I can't stand to look at myself any longer. I can't stand to further examine the consequences of the decisions I've made, so I turn and walk away. I walk away from the woman I no longer recognize, the woman that stares blankly at me begging for me to make a change, to do something so drastic that it'll shake me out of this pathetic state I'm in. But every time I see her, even if it's just a glimpse, I walk away. I can't face the pleading in her eyes because there's nothing I can do for her. These decisions are out of my hands, out of my control. I walk into my bedroom silently. I go straight to my drawers and begin to dress quickly. I don't bother putting much thought into the outfit I've chosen. They all blend together now. When I hear the water turn off in the bathroom, I attempt to ease the tension rising inside me. It doesn't work. It never works. When she walks into the room, not bothering with the towel, I try to hide the look of disgust that I know has taken over my face. She doesn't notice, she never does. She doesn't feel it when I stiffen at her touch, or that I don't return her kiss with the same fervor. She doesn't notice when I moan out the wrong name when she's kissing down my neck, ready and willing to elevate the sexual tension I feel. She doesn't care that I barely hide how often I notice her inadequacies or that I acknowledge them without thinking. She just keeps pushing her way into my life and pulling me toward her, never quite reaching close enough for her to pull me near her.
I leave the room when I realize that she plans on taking her time dressing. I go to the kitchen and grab one way of escaping. I pop the top off that beer and take a seat on the couch. I turn the TV on and turn the volume up, hoping to drown out the noise I can hear emanating from that room. She finally leaves the room, dressed in a suit that would fit someone else more perfectly, that she doesn't do justice. As she goes around the loft, gathering her things I take note of the time. Once everything's found and tucked safely away in her briefcase, I know it's nearing her departure and I will finally be able to breathe. She walks over to where I'm seated and kisses my forehead.
"Try not to stay on that couch all day, okay?"
I nod my head. I reserve speaking to when it's necessary. I don't do it leisurely, only out of necessity.
"I'll see you after work. I love you."
I want to ignore her last three words. I want to pretend I didn't hear them because it hurts me too much to do so. It hurts too much to realize how one-sided this relationship is, how much I'm willing to string her along simply for my selfish reasons. My mouth is dry when I open it with my reply. It won't wrap its way around those three words. It can't, not for her. So, I go with the standby. I give her that tiny piece she begs for whenever she forces those words into our space. "Me too."
She looks at me for a moment, and in that instant I think she'll question me, that finally she sees that enough is enough. But she doesn't, she doesn't question why in the year we've been together I never once looked at her with love or adoration, why I have never uttered the words I love you back. I'm grateful when she just leaves the room and heads off to work. I thank whomever responsible for her cowardice, because I know what words would have been spoken. I know the truths that would have been brought to light. I wouldn't have hesitated in giving her an honest answer to every question she may have wanted to ask. Maybe it's the little compassion I have for her that keeps me from releasing these words out of spite, keeps me from inflicting any more pain than I already am, keeps me from blaming her for all that I don't have, because really, I only have myself to blame for it.
I stare at the clock on the wall. I watch as time slowly ticks by me. I wait for the hour, in which, I can flee. The time when I can leave this dreaded place and go to something better, even if it's just for a few hours.
The phone rings behind me. I consider not getting it, wondering if she'd forgotten something and is calling to have me take it to her, but then I think about the other possibilities surrounding the ring and go pick it up.
"Did Kelly leave already?" I smile when I realize that the voice on the other end is not hers.
"Yeah," I roll my eyes at this unnecessary precaution.
"Okay, I'm at the door."
I put the phone down and go to let her in. We both take a seat on the couch watching the images flashing across the screen.
"Do you really have to do all that Kyla?" I ask her amusement evident in my voice.
"Yes, yes I do." I begin to laugh as she gives me a look that instantly shuts me up.
"It's not funny Ashley."
"Yeah it is."
"No it's not." She says this sternly and without hesitance.
"Come on, you have to admit it's just a little amusing."
She rolls her eyes at me and opts instead for a topic change. "Are you meeting us at Ego tonight?"
"Yeah," After thinking about it for a moment, I add on. "Do you want me to call you before hand so you can duck out before Kelly gets there?" I smile to myself and the look of annoyance she gives me only causes me to smile wider.
"I'm leaving."
As she makes her way out the door I yell out to her. "I'll see you tonight."
