A/N:
Alright, I don't know how to say it.
So I'll just say it, this is sorta femmeslash.
I've never written it before, it just happened that way.
Hope you like.
SM owns.
I know what the message says before I open it; yet this is the third time I've checked my email in less than ten minutes.
I wonder when my heart will learn to stop leaping at the sight of his name.
I'm sorry, Angela.
I don't think I can make it out to Seattle this weekend.
Something's come up.
Miss you, call you soon.
-Ben
Typical, I think, before I close out of my account; I stare at the log in page blankly.
I sigh as my as my head is filled with the sound of crunching cereal and replayed speculations as to what has made him cancel on me for the third time this month.
I feel my glasses slip down the bridge of my nose as I look down towards my idle phone; his ringtone hasn't sounded in two days now.
I don't know what's worse: the fact that he's so cavalier about disappointing me or the fact that I've started to get used to it. My shaking hand grips my cereal bowl a little tighter, in fear of spilling my cornflakes all over the periwinkle carpet of this lonely apartment.
Fear.
That's such an indefinable concept for me these days.
I ignore the slight burn of my left toe skimming quickly across the carpet as I sway a little in our swiveling desk chair; I face the direction of the living room window, staring at the steely grey sky. I lean my head on the leg that's propped up on the chair sighing at the same inescapable view.
There's nothing special here, especially not me; maybe that's why he's not here.
The jingling of keys and the turning of a lock break me out of my stare with the cloudy sky.
Flat slapping from her trademark converse echoes from the doorway as I hear my cousin come in.
I don't have the energy to speak first so it isn't until she rounds the corner that I hear her surprised voice. "Wow, you're up."
The astonishment in Bella's tone both offends and saddens me; I'm so tightly coiled in my seat with my legs folded beneath my chin and my response comes out kind of muffled. "Trying something new today." I mutter sarcastically into the knees of my SpongeBob pajamas.
She hooks her sparkly blue nails into the belt loops of her faded blue jeans after she places her coat and bag near the couch. "Being awake before dinner?" She probes, giving me this look my mother gives me before asking if I'm sick or something.
I can't really begrudge her bewilderment towards my unexpected consciousness. This is the first time she's seen me during the day in almost a month. If I'm not in class, I'm sleeping. Sometimes, I'm just plain sleeping in class. And on the weekends, she's so busy and I'm so detached that we're basically passing ships.
It's half past three in the afternoon, on a Saturday. I've only been awake for thirty minutes and the only reason I even got up turned out to be yet another disappointment; so now I'm left with nothing to do but spin in this chair and contemplate the pitiful position my life now resides in.
I watch the familiar look of burden bury her youthful features; I really wish she wouldn't worry about me. "Where have you been?" I ask with casual interest, hoping she'll sail right by her concerns over me.
My question isn't very effective, but her face smoothes slightly into placidity. She walks over and sits down in front of me on the carpet. "I was studying at the library, I left early." She shrugs, playing with her bracelet.
I hadn't heard her leave this morning. I had spent the whole night, like every night for the past month or so, studying in my room while waiting for my phone to ring. Right before the sun can rise and my eyes start to reread the same paragraphs twice; I finally stop hoping for my phone to ring and crash into my pillows until it's time for me to repeat the night over and over again. My drifting thoughts cover my brain as I answer her distractedly. "Oh." I smile, but it must be broken because it doesn't work on her.
The dullness of my tone causes her to look directly at me, all her worry rushing back to her brown eyes. "I didn't mean to take so long." She sighs, looking guilty. I fold into myself further; I probably look pathetic sitting around with my bowl of cereal and ratty pajamas. I feel even worse for making her feel more responsible for me; more than she already does. "I thought you had a study group, too. With Jennifer?" She prompts hopefully.
She's been hinting at mixers, parties, study groups, or just about anything that will make me get out of the house.
But she doesn't understand; she doesn't understand what it's like, she never has.
"Jessica," I correct pointedly, even though it's not her fault I'm constantly shutting her out. "And no, she had plans with her boyfriend today." I find this hard to admit for some reason. It's not like I'm upset or embarrassed because Jessica canceled on me; I'm quite used to it being canceled on at this point. But it's the fact that she, just like everyone I know, has something better to do.
And I don't.
My condition is looking bleaker by the day; I have gotten the same sympathetic looks from my cousin for weeks now. "Oh." She mutters, looking down slightly. She runs her hands through her hair fretfully before looking at me again. "Angela do you think maybe-"
Just before Bella can go into another pseudo-intervention about the lifeless status of my life; the front door is opened for the second time.
Bella stands up quickly at the unexpected interruption; I look around her body from my seat as she stands in front of me, almost shielding me.
I can't see much with her in the way, but I hear a tired huff loud and clear. "God, the parking really fucking sucks here, you know that B?" Her voice is unrecognizable, but easily distinctive; its throatiness belies a toughness and tenderness that mixes quite evenly. I can't remember ever hearing a voice like that, it's incomparable.
I watch Bella's body relax from its tensed stance in front of me; she must recognize the owner of the voice. "Oh, wow, I totally forgot you were coming." She chuckles, shaking her head at herself.
A dramatic gasp travels from the kitchen as I hear heavy footsteps pass through it on the way to us, "You forgot me, Bella?" She snickers. "You wound me…willing to make it better?" She purrs playfully.
Bella walks toward our unapologetically abrupt guest, finally unblocking my view.
Standing in the grayish light of our unlit living room is a walking pinup. I've never met her before; I only know this because if I had met someone that looked the way that she does, the memory would have been burned across my eyes and memory forever.
Bella gives her own snort at the suggestive joke before turning back to me. "Angie, this is my friend Rosalie." My cousin jerks her thumb in her much taller friend's direction in way of introduction before indicating me. "Rose, this is my little cousin Angela." She smiled at me dotingly; I felt the oddest tinge of resentment at the reference of my immaturity in front of this woman.
As if I needed to feel more minimal in front of her model material friend.
The first thing I notice is the bloody red bow of her lips painted in perfect contrast to her unblemished pale face, they're curved in a smirking smile with deep dimples framing each corner Just above her mouth is the perfect curve of her nose, sloping flawlessly between the apples of her rosy cheeks. Her eyes are framed by long sweeping eyelashes; the irises are the deepest blue, almost violet. But for some reason, I didn't want to stare too long into them. The prominent structure of her face is surrounded by wild, tousled blonde hair. The kind you get from staying out all night partying or making love. I couldn't tell which one of these applied for her. Yet, the lengthy locks had a carefree style to them, like an underwater mermaid.
I quickly scan the length of her tall, statuesque body; every curve of the girl's body is directed to catch every eye. Her tight red leather pants fit so perfectly to her curvaceous form; she wears them like her body was the mold they made those pants out of. Her black tank top is stretched tightly over her chest, resting just above her pierced navel; the glint of it, sparkling against her perfectly pale skin unexplainably irritates me just a little. Her long leather encased legs led down to perfectly polished boots; they look expensive just like the rest of her.
Even though her attitude and outfit screams rebel, she wears them both with an air of uncanny grace. She's like Marilyn Monroe…if she'd been a trashy biker or something. Her slender fingers are laced on her voluptuous hips, making them stand out in her commanding stance. She's the kind of person that expects attention instead of shying away from it, like me.
Her bright roguish smile manages to capture light that I'm not even sure exists in the room; she tosses a set of keys into the air repeatedly, catching it each time with She looks like a cocky cat batting its toy around.
I bet she's used to that sort of thing: playing with people, moving them around like pieces on a game board, breaking and taking hearts just because she could. I knew girls like her, I grew up with them. They were the girls that shined a little brighter, so they made girls like me fade away in their shadow. They were unique and special; not mousy little girls like me.
I bet a girl like her would be the reason why Ben didn't have the time to come slumming it back here.
I'm not a judgmental person, my nose is usually happily stuck in a book and not in others' businesses; but I can feel my face scrunching up in skepticism and suspicion at the very presence of my cousin's obscenely beautiful friend.
There's something very off about her, I just know it.
And I don't like the way she seems to focus on my unimpressive bed hair and night clothes, her mirthful smirk seems to deepen at the appearance of the nautical sponge pattern on my pants. I feel wrinkled and pale in comparison to her. And honestly, I feel kinda lame with cartoon pajamas while she's wearing fucking leather pants.
Are leather pants even in season?
Well, I refuse to feel uncomfortable in my own home…I can save that for awkward small talk in public.
Ignoring Rosalie entirely, I remove myself from the chair and head toward the kitchen with my bowl. "I was born three days after you." I call behind myself, as I walk away.
I'm almost done washing my bowl out when I hear someone come up behind me. "What are you eating?" She inquires curiously.
Her simple question confuses me somewhat and I'm once again uncomfortable around her. "Cornflakes and I'm finished." I answer shortly.
Getting tired of talking to the side of me, she sits up quickly on the counter beside me, staring at me until I look up. "Did you know that the maker-" She's wearing this silly grin that never fades in the face of my irritability.
Just before she can excitedly finish her sentence, she's interrupted. "Rose." Bella calls out with reprimand, suddenly standing in the kitchen fixing Rosalie with a scornful stare.
Rosalie winks at me before looking up with a comic look of innocence. "What?" She asks with fake naivety, folding her arms.
Bella folds her own arms, never lowering her reproachful stare. "You know what." My exasperated cousin points out flatly.
Their mysterious stare down bores me, so I poke Rosalie in her swinging shin causing her to jump and turn to me. "What about the maker?" I push.
Her sly smile returns as she opens her mouth to speak. "Nevermind." Bella cuts her off again, tugging Rosalie out of the kitchen with her. "We'll be in my room if you need anything." My cousin yells out, hastening out of the room.
As I'm shrugging at their weirdness and finishing drying my bowl, I hear Rosalie whisper to Bella, "Hey, B. Maybe we could bring her." My focus returns to them as I set the bowl back in the cupboard.
I step out into the hallway. "Bring me where?" I mumble unsurely; hoping to come off intimidating, I cross my arms quickly.
"No," Bella shakes her head, not even acknowledging me. "Angela isn't really into that sort of thing." My cousin never wants to let me in on anything she does, always thinks I'm way too weak to do anything but grocery shop or go to the movies. Just as I'm about to point out how lame I think she is, Rosalie snickers from between us.
Rosalie pushes a joking elbow into my cousin's ribs. "What sort of thing?" She asks sarcastically. "It's a club, not a meth lab."
"Club?" I step closer to them in obvious excitement.
Bella's always saying I need to get out more and this does seem more fun than doing laundry and listening for my phone to ring.
Bella rolls her eyes at Rosalie's smirk and my inquisitive look. "Alright, come on and we'll help you get ready." Her smile is as kind as usual, and once she stops worrying about my fragility she really looks less stressed. "This should be fun, Angie." She nods genuinely.
I don't forget Rosalie standing near me, but she just has to make herself known. "Yeah, you look like you could use a little." Rosalie's hair bounces with her laughter as she followed us into Bella's room.
I really don't like her.
I had always thought Ben would take me out to my first club.
The experience I'm having now couldn't have gone more differently; instead of dancing the night away with my boyfriend I've been sipping on cranberry vodka the whole night...alone.
The irony of feeling alone in a building full of sweaty, horny people is not lost on me.
Well, I'm not completely alone.
As soon as we had gotten here, Bella had made a beeline toward the bar where her boyfriend, Edward, worked. She gave strict instructions for me and Rose to stay in plain view, to stick together and to wait for her to get back to the table in a little while.
That was two hours ago.
So guess who got stuck being babysat by Bella's weirdo friend while she gets to sneak kisses under the bar?
It's like everyone's forgotten that I'm 21.
I don't look over at Rosalie as I brood about her unwanted presence for the millionth time tonight. She's just so strange; she swears every five minutes, orders the weirdest drinks and she completely ignores every guy here who has hit on her. I guess maybe they don't pose enough of a challenge for her. Girls like her probably love challenges.
And on top of everything else, every time I look over at her I catch her staring right at me. It's like she's about to say something but when I look at her she gets this frustrated look on her face like I'm bugging her. She really doesn't have to watch me; I've been saying this the whole time.
I'm perfectly capable of being alone without her; I already feel alone with her sitting right beside me.
Though, as weird as she is, nobody could say she doesn't look amazing tonight. She has her long blonde hair styled in this overcomplicated up-do, she's wearing a too-short champagne pink halter dress that gives off way too much cleavage if you ask me, and to top it off, she's wearing these pink pumps that make her legs look unnecessarily leaner and longer.
I guess she's beautiful in that perfect way…if you're into that sort of thing.
It's not like she really needs all this stuff to make her look pretty; she could do that wearing a potato sack.
I bet she already knows that.
I bet that's why she keeps looking at me.
I probably look like a nun in my little blue dress that actually covers my knees, and my hair probably looks drab and lank in comparison to her wonderfully coiffed waves.
I know why she keeps looking at me; she knows that even at my best I could never be better than her.
That's probably why my boyfriend isn't here with me; he probably realizes it too.
At the thought of my Ben schtooping about with some blonde bimbo, I turn to her, wobbling slightly with the effort.
Maybe there was more vodka than cranberry in those drinks.
Just as I'm about to tell Rosalie off, which I think is quite important, she starts talking to me. "Angela, like Angel right?" Her lips are suddenly very close to my ear and I swallow a lump of nerves.
Maybe I could tell her off later.
It's such an odd question, which is typical because she's so odd. "Yeah, I guess." I sigh, not really paying much attention to her. I wonder if I ask to go home now if Bella will still think I'm clinically depressed.
"Well, Angel, how about a dance?" At her suggestion, I do pay attention to her. I notice the close proximity of her tattooed shoulder to mine; she has me up against the wall of the booth. How did I get so far over?
I focus on the flaming heart inked onto the smooth skin of her shoulder. "With you?" I squeak. I wish I could pull off that calm and sure tone my cousin has or the sultry flow that comes from Rose.
I watch Rose's fingers dance on the side of my empty glass. "Or you could just dance with some other guy and I can watch." She whispers. I don't understand why she just winked at me, but I figure there isn't much reason to hate Rosalie except for her ability to make me look plainer.
It's not her fault she was born special and I wasn't.
Deciding to bury the hatchet with my cousin's strange yet friendly study buddy, I down the rest of my drink and slap it down on the table. "Fine, I'm drunk enough."
Her smile is off-putting in its radiance and stuns me a little. I must be wasted. "Come on, then." She grasps my cold hand into her own, warming it immediately. Her hands are like the softest petals as she lifts me from my seat; she doesn't let go of my hand as she leads me away from our table and to the pulsing dance floor.
When we make it to the middle of the room, her firm grasp on my hand eventually leaves me, but it's soon replaced with a steady hold on my waist as she moves both of her hands to my hips. Her grip burns through the fabric of my dress and I don't understand the reaction I have as I feel her thumbs rub my hipbones.
I'm suddenly tense as she lifts my wooden arms around her neck; I don't understand why I feel so nervous around her all of a sudden. It's just two girls dancing around; this is supposed to be fun. I dance with Bella all the time.
Maybe I feel edgy because this is all so new to me.
But I'm determined to have fun again; I give her a smile before beginning to slowly sway to the music. She smiles in encouragement moving in perfect synchronicity to my timid steps. As the music intensifies and the lights glow brighter and faster, I feel more carefree than I have in such a long time. Rosalie's arms are the perfect tether as I start to move quicker to the crashing beats surrounding us. I feel my heart race as she moves her hands to mine, lacing our fingers as we move rhythmically in the sea of bodies immersing us. She beings to spin me around again and again, her smile growing wider at my inaudible laughs as we float around to the beat of some ambient techno beat.
We may have been dancing for minutes, but it feels like hours as I am spun around in her careful hands. My head is filled with noise and sensation; I don't pay attention to anything but the hot feeling surrounding me in the club, the strong beat of my heart and the rhythm of the song.
And then the lights dim down and the music fades away.
The song changes and upon registering it as a song that Ben used to like, my eyes open and everything's different. I can feel Rosalie's cheek against mine as she gently sways with me amongst the other couples dancing.
It feels wrong all of a sudden, her hands aren't the ones that I need.
I shouldn't be here; maybe Ben's been trying to call me in this loud fucking club and I've been missing it.
I have to go.
"I wanna go home." I whisper, ignoring the way my glasses fog up in parallel with my stinging eyes.
With our closeness, Rosalie still hears me; she raises her head off of my shoulder, peering into my distressed face. "Okay, Angel." She whispers back.
I hate myself for ruining our good time, but it doesn't stop me from pulling myself from her arms and searching for the quickest exit.
After some hushed words to my cousin, Rosalie had escorted me out of the club and quickly into a cab home.
I sobered up about halfway through, leaning against her chest the whole way there.
I had checked my phone the second we had gotten out of the club; the only thing there had been a text from Bella saying she'd be home as soon as the club closed. I remember moving closer into Rose's arms as I swallowed down the disappointment of it not being Ben.
I untie my hair as I sit in the living room with Rose. "Sorry about this." I apologize after a half hour of tense silence. "You really don't have to stay." I remind Rosalie for the tenth time since we've gotten here.
Rosalie kicks her heels off from her seat on the arm of our couch. "And let Bella skin me alive for leaving you alone…" She laughs, rubbing her sore toes.
"I'm not a baby." I mutter, passing her on the way to the kitchen.
As I rummage through the kitchen for a midnight snack, I hear Rosalie snicker from behind me. "Oh, I know that." I can't tell whether she's being serious or not; I turn towards her meeting her stare. "Besides I'd rather stay here, better after party than I could have planned." She winks settling onto the kitchen counter.
I ignore the peculiar way she watches me, turning back to the refrigerator and pulling out my round freezing prize. "Suit yourself," I shrug moving toward the microwave. "I'm probably just gonna eat frozen pizza and watch Friends reruns."
"Sounds good to me." She moans out, stretching slightly on the counter.
The silence between us is only filled with the hum of the rotating microwave; I stare at my bare feet on the tiles of the kitchen floor. I feel like I should say something to her, thank her for her kindness. But everything I come up with sounds super lame.
I look up, thinking that maybe a pizza peace offering would suffice and catch her staring at me again. "Why do you keep looking at me?" I snap causing Rosalie to chuckle in amusement.
Her smile becomes smaller as she looks at the ground beneath her. She looks almost shy when she looks at me again. "Because you're pretty." She shrugs.
The way her eyes manage sparkle at me in the fluorescent kitchen light gives me a peculiar chill, I turn back to the beeping microwave. "Yeah, right." I drawl taking the cooked pizza out of the microwave.
"No point in lying." She says as I hear her feet make contact with the kitchen floor. I don't know why, but my body tenses in anticipation as I hear her steps come nearer to me.
I close my eyes trying to still my flurried thoughts as I suddenly feel the length of her body against my back. We're almost about the same height; where her leonine form is filled out with plush curves and I'm just a stringy beanpole. I feel her arms on either side of me as she boxes me in against the counter; my heart stills as I feel her bend slightly towards my ear.
I feel her inhale the skin behind my ear and suddenly things are clearer; her constant staring and her complete lack of interest in other guys.
She likes me.
Wait, she likes me.
She likes little Angela Webber from Forks, Washington.
This amazing looking woman was running her fingers on the hips of boring and plain Angela.
I feel an odd mix of surprise, confusion, and ill placed pride at her evident attraction to me.
Was that appropriate?
I don't have time to think about it as she turns me quickly to face her. Her eyes search mine for something and she must be able to find it because soon her plump pink lips are lowering to mine.
I'd never wanted to kiss a girl before; I can't understand where my sudden curiosity is coming from.
As crazed as things have gotten in the past five minutes, I still can't forget one thing.
Just as she closes her eyes, I panic. "Boyfriend." I blurt out, ducking away from her.
I almost don't catch the hurt on her face as she watches me retreat to the far end of the kitchen, my chest heaving with frenzied breaths. She quirks up another smile, moving out of the kitchen. "Relax, Angel." She snickers softly. "I was only trying my luck." Her wink isn't as genuine as I felt they once were, and each one she's given me has new meaning.
I can't deal with this right now.
"I need to change." I call out shakily to her in the living room
"Sure," she calls out quietly before I hear the TV get turned on.
I stumble to the sanctuary of my room, with a constant thought: what the hell just happened?
As I take off my dress, I try to stop my heart from hammering in my chest.
My cousin's female friend just came onto me in the kitchen.
She almost kissed me.
And I fucking wanted her to.
This is not okay.
Wait, it can be okay.
I'll just pretend like it never happened, and I'm sure she'll go alone with it.
I think I can go one level further into denial; I'm already living in it every day.
Sounds like a reasonable plan.
I can do that.
I feel a tinge of paranoia, and my notions are confirmed as I look over to the left. "What are you doing?" I gasp, noticing her watching me in the doorway.
Her smile is lazy, but still so lovely as she stands there staring at me. "Pushing my luck." Her voice drags as she passes the threshold. My heart skips a beat as I notice the way she's staring at my half naked figure. "From the moment I saw you, I felt like you were hiding." Her confession is almost surreal; I am shocked beyond belief as I search for another shirt.
I look away from her, heading for my dresser. "Hiding what?" I am distracted as I frantically search for my elusive nightshirt.
I'm still in my bra and panties as I move away from her approaching form; my room is darker than the brightly lit hallway. "The fact that you need something." She continues. "And just because I can't have a taste doesn't mean you don't deserve a little fun." She smirks; her eyes hold so many secrets. They're the brightest things in my room, sparking like burning sapphires.
I feel heat lick the length of my spine as she continues moving toward me. "Fun? What kind of fun?" I ask suspiciously as she moves farther into my room.
She licks her lips, smiling slightly at my shocked expression. "You're gonna touch yourself." She says matter of factly.
My eyes grow wide at her statement; I would never do that in front of anyone. "No," I reject the idea quickly, even though somewhere inside of me is in total agreement of it. "I- I don't want-" My denial is weak as each word is stuttered.
I back farther away as I feel her eyes caress every part of my exposed body. I feel my calves hit the foot of my bed just before I accidentally fall onto it. "There's nothing to be ashamed of." She speaks in a lulling tone from above me, hypnotizing me with every word. "You need to be taken care of, Angel." Her voice is almost arresting; I can already feel the nervous tension leaving my locked body. "Don't you want to feel good?" The question hangs tantalizingly on my ears, echoing through my mind.
Fear battles arousal in a vicious war from inside of me.
She's right, and I can't deny it.
It's been too long.
I sigh shakily, relaxing into the bed. "That's right, beautiful." She soothes in my ear, as she watches my fingers slip past the rim of my lacey black panties. "Make yourself feel good." I tenderly rub at the crisp hairs surrounding my aching sex. I can't believe how much wetness is surrounding my sensitive lips. The very scent of her is arousing; so different from the manly odor of my boyfriend, her floral scent permeates the air mixing with my arousal.
I close my eyes, tamping down the panic at the feelings she gives me; I just want to focus on the pleasure I'm about to give myself. Just as I'm calming, her voice fills the room once more. "You have beautiful skin, you know?" She mutters rhetorically from my side, I never even felt her get onto the bed. I feel her scoot closer to me as my fingers brush lightly over my clitoris. "Skin like sun-kissed sand; I wanna taste it, Angel." She hums, watching me shiver at the feeling of my fingers exploring my wet folds.
I can feel my juices seep into my panties, as I hesitantly circle my eager opening. "Your tits are perfect; I want to hear you moan when I squeeze them." As I slip one finger slowly inside of myself, I can almost feel her hands ghosting on my stiff nipples; I'm nearly frightened at my desire to feel her lips on them. She's not even touching me but all I can think about is her hands softly holding my heavy breasts. I'm suddenly more aware of all the heat licking at my body, more so than ever before.
I can't stop panting as I feel her fingers running softly through my hair; I can't control my spasms as my finger presses deeper inside of me. "If you wanted me to, I'd suck you until there was nothing left." Something tightens fiercely inside of me at her promise, I whine loudly in response. "I wouldn't stop until you came all over my mouth." She hisses as I add another finger to my needy sex.
Her eyes are fixed on my fast fingers, pumping quickly into my drenched opening. "It's my tongue in your pussy that you're thinking of, isn't it? Tell me." She demands harshly in my ear; I arch into her, moaning desperate agreement as I fuck myself faster and faster.
I can feel myself getting closer and closer as my walls clamped tighter on my fingers. "That's right, don't be scared." Rosalie purrs, planting kisses on my cheeks and neck. "I wanna see you come, Angel." She urges; as I rubbed harder on my clit I feel her warm hand rubbing on my tensing stomach. It's all the stimulation I need for my body to spiral into the sweetest helplessness.
In that moment of exhilarating completion, it's like this bright light flashes before my eyes; illuminating my entire life.
Everything I've been afraid of for the past month comes rushing through my mind as my body surrenders to the intensity of my orgasm.
I don't know whether I've been afraid of losing Ben or afraid of never finding anyone else.
Bella's always been the special one, the one everyone took such an interest in. I was always sort of 'background'. I blended in better than the air around a room, at least that explained why I was so transparent.
When Ben got accepted into NYU, I had swallowed back the tears and put on a brave face. I couldn't afford to leave Washington and part of me was afraid to know any life but this one. I had told myself that nothing had to change; Ben would come back to me every chance he got.
Ben was so special and unique; he had to find himself.
Even if that isn't with me.
I could never hold someone back from being as bright as they could be, even if I was fading away from his memory every day.
But maybe I'm not seeing myself as brightly as I do everyone else.
There's a stunning blonde woman whose sole desire is to make me come, hovering over my quivering form.
There has to be something special about me.
As I finally still, I feel her drop a kiss on my forehead; my bed creaks as she moves off of it.
"Maybe next time you'll let me help." She snickers, as the sound and smell of her fades away from my room.
Just before I can even tell whether this is a disturbingly brilliant dream, a familiar ringtone comes blasting me back into life.
A/N:
Okay, what'd you think?
I'd love to know :)
Thanks for reading.
