I saw them on the balcony and all I could think was no, don't kiss him, she's not supposed to be kissing him...
It was a scene I replayed over and over in my mind. Him with his handsome face, his slender shoulders, and her with her seductive brown eyes, her leather shirt, kissing outside the club that night, as if they couldn't resist each other, as if they were drawn together from their mutual attractiveness. Maybe she was drunk, I don't know. Maybe they were just playing, or had gone off their collective heads.
But I saw them there, poised to kiss against a German skyscape, and I didn't think. I couldn't react like a reasonable person. There was nothing reasonable about it.
She's not supposed to be kissing him.
I wanted to be there. I would have given anything to have those eyes stare into mine, to feel those lips against my skin. There was electricity in the air. They created it together, and I couldn't deny that. For a moment, I wanted to inhabit another's skin, just for a moment, just to feel the touch of the forbidden passion.
I thought...didn't you feel something when we danced? Why are you kissing...
You look so good tonight. You always do. Did you never feel my eyes, watching you?
The bottom fell out of my stomach. I felt cold, the cool wind playing at my flimsy top that was a futile attempt to attract those brilliant laughing eyes. And it was all worthless, because they were snogging in the evening air and didn't care what I felt, or who I dreamed about.
She's not supposed to be kissing him!
I wanted to just turn and go, and wallow in my self-pity, but I couldn't. I felt too much, wanted too much. I had to say something.
Staring at the perfect form of the one I loved, I heard myself say "You bitch."
Then I turned to leave, tears flowing from my eyes, wiping them furiously away with the back of my hand. I heard Joe say "Jules..." but I couldn't respond, not concerned about what he thought or what they assumed about my reaction.
I threw myself against the wall of the ladies' room, the cool tiles against my bare back, my skin flushed, my heart racing, and let the anger and frustration and hopelessness wash over me. The salty tears burned my eyes, soaked my hands held against my face. I was a silly lovesick girl, and I had been fooling myself all along.
She's not supposed to be kissing him...
She should be kissing me.