Her hair swayed slowly with every movement, red, like the lights that lit the city that night. Her feet illustrated a delicate and simple dance, sliding easily over the cold floor of the room. Her voice echoed, erasing momentarily the cloud of doubt that had begun to form in my mind. Her eyes showed innocence and maturity, fatigue and energy. A lot of contradictions that characterize her way of being. Sliding her fingers on a pack of cigarettes, I deny her invitation. I always try to convince her that isn't a good habit but she doesn't want to listen my objections.
She looks like a child, even though she turned 19 just a few weeks ago.
She smiles, and abruptly my whole world lights up; her head resting on my shoulder, her hot breath in my ear.
She told me that she could hear the noises coming from the corridor, the way how the doors opened and the voices outside. She could imagine the people who had stayed in this hotel room before, their faces, their lives. I could only think of her while I admire her in silence.
The sheets wrinkled under her body, her silhouette poorly illuminated by the TV light. I try not to smile at her expression while she see cartoons but I can't help it. The way her mouth curved into a shy smile, the crinkle in her eyes when she blinks, her cheeks full of freckles that try to imitate the infinite stars of the firmament.
"Come here, Elsa. This is your favorite episode".
She beckons me to go along with her, smiling. I can feel the heat of her skin against my cold body. Her lips kiss my cheek fleetingly, leaving a strange feeling, very different from the previous kisses we used to share.
Her face turns in an attempt to see my gaze. Lost, empty, distant. Her fingers slide down my chin, bordering my lips and making me feel chills all over my body. I could feel the air getting colder and I imagined for several seconds that it had begun to snow in the middle of summer.
But no, it was her. Was her who tried to put together the little that existed of my sanity without knowing that with each gesture it was breaking me more. I had promised myself to prevent this from happening, but in her face was a feeling that we should never have experienced.
I smile sadly as I take her wrist to push her hand away from my face, she nods and concentrates again on the old and worn-out TV of the room. Her eyes border the body of each of the characters and I smile when I remember the time that she dressed as a harlequin when she was only 7 years old.
The way her reddish hair was tied in two poorly made pigtails, her crooked milk teeth that threatening to fall and her green eyes hidden behind a clumsy mask that she colored by herself. That's how she was, and deep down I know she still is.
She yawns, stretching her arms and letting see part of her belly beneath her shirt. Her toned abdomen, her body still sweaty due to the gymnastics competition that she had early. The promise to take a shower forgotten in a corner of her memory, her cheeks painted in a pink hue.
I try not to show that I don't want to let her go, hiding the fear to know that, when crossing that door, we are going to become complete strangers, forgetting to each other.
Silently, I turn off the tv, leaving everything in darkness. The light from the hallway filtered through the door's slit, illuminating enough to find the way to the bed. I wrap her body in a hug and inhale the smell of her skin, I can know she's smiling because her muscles contract slightly. I slide my fingers over her skin, mentally counting each freckle that makes her unique, trying to memorize her peculiar anatomy.
I kiss her shoulder as I feel she turn her body to stare at me, her breathing is heavily, although I force myself to believe that it's not due to my actions. I smile, her lips just inches from mine. The taste of her lip gloss in my mouth, the slight smell of mint thanks to the cigarette she had smoked minutes before.
Her hands sliding over my hair shyly, trying to deepen the kiss. I get closer to her, trying to impregnate myself with her essence as I feel the agitated form of her breath. Her breath hits my mouth while she moves away with sadness, forcing me to turn my back on her and to forget the sensations we had experienced before.
The memory of our first kiss comes to my mind. The way she had hidden under my sheets, the rain hitting the windows and the house totally silent. Her hair rested on her shoulders and her pajamas showing more than allowed. My knee tentatively hitting her crotch, her hand sliding down my chest.
The husky form in which she had pronounced my name, as if a drowned cry was.
The figure of our parents entering in the room. My cheek burning for the slap that my father had given me. The pieces of glass from our family portrait scattered on the floor.
I close my eyes as I force myself to calm down, thinking about everything we had done. She had turned on the TV, concentrating on the figure of two little mice trying to plan world domination. I look at her with sadness, while she does the same; our eyes meet for a split second, moving away quickly when I noticed small tears on her eyes.
I breathe with difficulty.
Could we pretend that we're not in love?
This is an old one shot that I wrote a few months and I wanted to translate it (if there's a grammar mistake, sorry). This, like the original, have a sad ending; if you want to read a happy ending, I'll update this later (I wrote it as a gift for a friend on tumblr).
Inspired, a little, by the Halsey's song "Is There somewhere". Hope you like it and thanks for read.