His Girl Friday

I knew what I was doing was wrong, I knew it with every fibre of my being; but that wouldn't stop me. I was leading one boy into despair, and another into a false sense of security. And myself? Well, I was just digging myself into a hole I wasn't sure I could get out of. Every time I heard his name, I'd remember it, whether I was listening or not, and it would take all of me not to think back on the memories we had. It was like my mind was the bark of a tree, and someone was etching his name into it over and over until there was no more room in me to remember.
"I have a boyfriend," I spluttered helplessly, pushed against the wall of my own dark room. He was in front of me, breath splashing across my face from his lips above me. He was leaning down on me, only inches from my lips, and it was taking all I had not to kiss him right now.
"One more secret is nothing," he whispered, pushing his lips closer to mine. The urge was overwhelming, but I had to stay strong. I couldn't do this.
"It's one more scratch on my record, William." It was true. All I had done since I had met him was scar my almost clean record. He was turning me into the girl I never knew I could actually be. I was creeping around behind my boyfriends back, hiding what I had with William. I had no idea what it was we had, but I knew it wasn't something I should have hidden. It would have been fine to come right out and tell him I had another friend I was going to hang out with, but it seems like he was always destined to be something more to me. I never even realised what he was going to become, what we were going to become, but I knew it was something. He always remembered the rules to our game. Always. We'd spend Monday and Tuesday in my dark room, he'd always do everything I asked. Wednesday we'd sit with a bottle and a movie, always the same old black and white film, always the same drink. Thursday we'd play and we'd play until the games console overheated and my CD almost destroyed from over-playing, always the same game, always the same songs. Friday was the one day I would spend away from him with the boy I should have been acting that way with. Friday was the night for my boyfriend and I. It was the one day in the entire week I wouldn't hear a word from William. Not a phone call; not an email; not a text.
Today it was Monday, and I still had the overbearing weekend guilt hanging above my head like a dark cloud. Friday had been as perfect as ever, he had been as loving as ever, and I had been as guilty as ever. William had this way of creeping into my mind at the worst of times throughout the night, every time he had come in to kiss me, all I could think was 'What if this was William? What if it was his lips pressing ever-so-softly to mine?' and now that I had the opportunity to find out those what ifs, I couldn't do it. Or could I?
"You need a little mark here and there, people get annoyed if you're too perfect." His breath was washing over me, and all I could smell was the faint aroma of breath mints and alcohol mixed into one, it was always intoxicating coming from him. I looked up, straight into his brown eyes. He was staring at me intently, like he was trying to work something out about me that he hadn't noticed before. The sigh that escaped my lips was one of nothing but pure desperation. My situation was complicated beyond belief. The lines we, I, had already crossed were nothing compared to the one it seemed I was about to take, yet the way he thought was the way I thought, what was one more scratch on my already tainted record now?
"I don't think I can do this, Will, not to him. Why can't this just be simple?" The longing was now an ache trying to drive me forwards. Urging me to fall into his arms, to kiss him and to never let him go. I just wanted him to be here, holding me, forever. Even though it was the worst thing I could hope for in this world, I still needed it more than anything. Denying myself this would be like denying myself oxygen, but I had to. I was only half aware of biting my bottom lip. He was staring at it, I could see that clearly. His eyes were only flickering to mine occasionally now. He seemed entranced by my teeth on my lips, slipping every now and again, only to come back moments later.
"You're shaking."
"I'm nervous."
"Don't be."
My hands were almost reaching up to run themselves through his hair. It was something I had always wanted to do. It just seemed to silky, I wanted to see if it really was. The way it always flopped around in the cutest of ways, and into his eyes like it had now, it made me want to push it away for him. I wanted to beat him to it. I wanted to be allowed to do those things for him without the continual guilt nagging away in my mind every time I even thought of it.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me here," he mumbled. "Every time I even see you it makes me heart beat so fast it's difficult to breathe. These past few weeks it's taken so much not to just throw you against the wall and kiss you."
"You're already halfway there, Will." I could feel myself rising, and moving closer to him. I could feel our noses touching, but I didn't want to draw back. As much as I knew I should, I couldn't. It was like I was on a one way street, and the only way out was to continue on forwards like I was now. There was no escaping the inevitable, but there was a need to delay.
"All I need is proof that you want this, and I'll do it." His face was serious, and his eyes were back on mine.
"I'm still here, aren't I?" I didn't know what I was doing anymore. I was playing with fire and I was only seconds away from getting burnt. "If you want me, do it now."
"It's the taste of the chase. I do confess," he sighed.
"It's a mess that feels so right."
I bit my lip once more. My hands came to his shirt, gripping it. I pulled him in.
Bite your lip, pull me in, it's not the sin, it's the mess that feels so right.