Somewhere We Went Wrong

I shook my head as I laughed a bit more. And then I waited.

I waited for him to respond. To say or do anything other than stare at me with that torn expression of his. Like he’s the hurt one here. He has a girlfriend, a crisp career, and he’s not crying on the floor of a house full of people who don’t want you anymore. So why did he look so hurt?

I stared back, still waiting. After an eternity of silence, or that’s what it at least seemed like, he sighed before speaking.

“Come on,” He motioned for me to stand up. I was confused but I didn’t show it. Instead my confusion was blanketed by rudeness.

“Why?” I snapped.

“Kylie, get up and come on.” He came towards me. His hand didn’t go far my hand, but gripped around my arm to pull me up. I jumped slightly. I hadn’t felt his touch in so long. I wanted to resist. I told myself I needed to, but I knew I couldn’t. The mere touch of him was too much for my lonely heart.

He brought me into his own room, releasing my arm when he went to his dresser, riffling through the drawers. I stood awkwardly, my legs weak and my body tired from the fight I’ve been putting up all night.

When Nick turned around I was sitting on the little stool, slumped over tiredly. Exhaustion was spreading through my body quickly the longer I was awake.

“Kylie. Kyle, can you put these on?” He shook my shoulder, almost making me fall off the stool completely. I moaned unhappily, swinging my head in objection. Control left me when my head lolled onto his shoulder, sleepy.

I felt him stiffen and pick me up, bringing me to his bed.

“I know you remember the drill.” He said softly, like he was trying not to remember himself.

“Sure.” I said, recollecting the memories of all the times Nick’s gotten me ready for bed. His hands went to my back, unzipping my corset top. I undid my bra myself, not sane enough to care or just shamelessly not wanting to care. I saw him watch me and he shook his head before pulling the shirt over my head. My skirt came off next.

“No pants.” I objected at his attempt to slide sweats onto me. I laid down knowing he wanted to argue me about it. He always did when I did my own thing. I let those words be my last for the rest of the night. My hands brought the covers over my shoulder.

I wasn’t shocked when Nick climbed into the bed after me. We faced each other, not speaking one word, barely breathing audibly. What was there to say?

I told him how I felt and he said nothing. I wasn’t satisfied with that. But this… contact was long awaited. He pulled me towards him, so close our noses were touching and we continued to stare. Bodies pressed and heart beats pumping.

I fell asleep looking into his eyes.

&Somewhere.

I woke up smiling. No excruciating headache or guilty feelings. It was the best sleep I could ever remember. When I really looked at my surroundings, last night came back to me. The argument with Joe, the confession, and the silent comfort.

But words were needed now weren’t they? The morning after was always the consequence. Always. But right now, while he lay peaceful and unaffected by our horribly reality as a tragedy, I watched him. I wanted to curl up and enjoy this moment. He wasn’t fighting me as he dreamed of no fears or hurt. The way his lips were slightly parted. How the hand that wasn’t around me flinched occasionally against his pillow. I let my nose breathe in the scent so I could reassure it in my mind.

I watched, not touching or moving, scared I’d ruin our perfection. I don’t know how long I kept it perfect until the time stopped and his phone buzzed on the dresser behind me. I twisted around to see who was calling in the morning.

When I saw I realized I wasn’t going to be here when he woke up. Crying silently I turned back to picture him one last time. My hands went through his hair, with the knowing that I couldn’t have him. While Miranda’s face continued to show on his vibrating Balckberry, I slipped the skirt on to accompany the white shirt of Nick’s which adorned my body. I took my heels in one hand and walked out of the room, down the stairs and out of the quiet house, not looking back.

The only evidence of last night I left Nick with was my bra and a zebra print corset. And of course, the memories.