Living on Perfectly Remembered Memories

Matt

All I could think was I had to call my best friend. I spent seven months with Lisa and she basically said a slightly nicer version of "Fuck you" to my face. What did I do wrong?

I never cheated once, I granted her affection a boyfriend should show, I called her every night before going to sleep, and I love her. I love her. How did I fuck up?

She didn't even look hurt or sad and definitely wasn't crying when she destroyed our bond. It was as though she was maybe even happy to be rid of my presence. I bet she cheated on me. That guy that fucked her probably gave her more satisfaction that I could give her.

Is there something wrong with me? I can never have a good relationship. Hook-ups are fun but I want real feelings, I need them. Am I incapable of love?

I'm nothing but a loser. How could anyone love me?

The loud sound of something hitting the floor made me look up. She came. She actually came.

Is her love for me a lie too? She's deceiving me; she's lied to me about her love for me. She came though, just like I hoped she would. Maybe I did have hope after all.

I dropped my head into her lap once she sat down. 'Please play with my hair, please do it.'

Her soft slender fingers ran through my messy hair. They brought immediate comfort to my confusing emotions. 'Thank you.'

I wanted to know if she did in fact love me. Then again, it isn't very difficult to lie to someone right in front of their face and play it off like they were telling the truth. Should I muster up the courage to ask? Do I even want to hear the answer, good or bad?

What if I ask and it destroys our friendship for the third time? I don't think I could stand that. At least the other two times, I knew for damn sure I was the problem. This time, I'm not sure.

I rose out of my bed and ran down to the kitchen. Dad had to have left some type of alcohol in the house. I realized I was risking getting into trouble with the parents but I needed to forget tonight. I was going to pull a Franchesa for tonight. I really don't care.

Too bad the only thing I could find was water. I took the bottle of water with me back up to my room. I saw Franchesa with her eyes lightly shut from the exhaustion of dealing with me. I feel terrible that she does have to deal with my annoying change of moods. She's missing out on spending time with her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. That word was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

I watched silently as her lips parted and her head lolled to the side as she was succumbing faster and faster to sleep.

I want to be her boyfriend. I still want her. Oh my god.

I gulped and whimpered. I couldn't look at her anymore. It would make things so much worse. I looked down at my bottle; I looked at it long and hard. Maybe it would give me some answers. It didn't though and that pissed me the fuck off. I crushed it without it popping and threw it to the floor.

Franchesa woke up and looked at me with pity in her eyes. I didn't want pity. I wanted love. And then the feeling struck me. She's in love with Rafael. She isn't in love with me.

I jumped onto the bed and hugged her, effectively pushing her against my bed. "It...Hurts," I sighed. It really does. I can't have her when I desperately need and want her.

"I know it does, sweetie. Let it all out, go ahead," she replied. Her voice sounded so beautiful when all was quiet.

If only she knew what I meant when I said that. She still thought I was talking about my break-up with Lisa. That goes to show that Franchesa would never develop any type of feelings for me. She hadn't realized I was talking about not being able to have her.

Eventually, we lay down on my bed. I hugged her to me as Rafael would sometimes. My arms were tight around her waist and her hands placed firmly against my chest. Crazy and wrong as it may sound, tonight was my night with her. I would take advantage of it for as long I could.