My Heart; Tangled in Your Sheets

High school. There are plenty of things that happen during this time. Enough embarrassing moments to last you a lifetime, plenty of things to regret. Did I regret anything?

Sure, here and there. But didn’t we all?

I certainly regretted ripping off other kids. We would all get together at someone’s house, and play all kinds of games. I guess you could say I had a way with counting cards. Not the best idea, definitely not the nicest thing to do, but hey, it wasn’t like I went out and shot people, right?

Right.

Other than that, I really didn’t regret anything.

Well…

There was this girl. Jessica Mays.

Oh, my.

She was a heartbreaker, that one. She walked, no, strutted down the hallways like they were her catwalks.

She was popular. So was I. There happened to be a major difference between us, though.

I was one of those guys who didn’t sleep around much.

Jessica, now…

She was a real fast girl.

I knew from experience.

Now, don’t get all, “Oh, you man-slut!” on me. I wanted love. I thought I would find it with Jessica. I had the wrong idea of love, completely wrong idea. I wanted the love that you saw on TV, that kind of love. But I went about it the wrong way. You don’t sleep with someone to get love. I knew people would say that love’s a bitch, but truthfully, love’s kiss was something I wanted.

Anyways, back to Jessica.

There were times when it looked good. Like there could be something. For instance, we had this little “routine”, you could say.

“Take off your jeans and boots,” I would tell her, sliding off her cowboy boots, making her laugh, that gorgeous laugh.

“What do you want me to wear?” she would then ask playfully. “Nothing?”

I would pretend to think. “Nah,” I would tell her teasingly, “I like you best in my suit.”

“That cheap thing?” she would say, cutely wrinkling her nose before laughing once more.

And then I would kiss her.

Those were the greatest moments. Those were the kisses I had waited for, the kisses that made me think that maybe love wasn’t such a bitch, if kisses as great as those could exist.

Oh, Jessica Mays.

But sometimes, things looked bad, uneven. Maybe I always expected her to just go with it, because she always had. The end of us had been the worst.

“Clean it up,” I had told her, pulling my shirt on.

“Clean up what?” she asked, puzzled.

I gestured around. “The room.”

“Clean the room up? Why should I?” she asked angrily. “You booked it!” She grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. The hotel suite was a mess. Much, now that I think about it, like the situation. Sheets off the bed, pillows everywhere, mattress slightly askew. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m done.”

“What?” I asked.

“I’m done,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m done with this, I’m done with you.” She grabbed her cowboy boots, those signature cowboy boots, and stalked out of the room, leaving me standing there, my mind in a dizzy array.

I must admit, I was a mess. A mess without her. She was the one constant in my life, the one thing I had really relied on. Maybe I hadn’t relied on her for the right stuff, but even so.

I wished I had been tangled in her sheets, never able to escape. I was so far beyond hers; I was anything she wanted me to be. I loved her. I just didn’t know it until she had broken me.

But that was what she was known for.