A Perfect Nothing

I'm there, waiting for him. I can't find him, can't see him. He's not here.

My mind gets the better of me, feeding me questions. Making me doubt myself, and even more so, doubt him.

What are you to him? Why would he do this for you? It's a joke. He doesn't want you. Why would he want you?

I shiver in my black leather jacket, wrap my arms around myself. I lean against the cold metal pole and pick anxiously at my lip.

Where is he? He's not coming. Why would he come in the first place?

I glance around myself, at the bare streets. It's night-time, the sky is dark, and so is everything else. I'm isolated, with only my hot pink scooter to keep me company. Hot pink. Why did I chose that colour? Because he liked it, said it matched my personality.

You're nothing. You were nothing to your parents, nothing to your sister and nothing to your brother. Why would you be something to him, he who has and always has had, everything?

The wind picks up, blowing my blonde hair back behind my shoulders. My shivering picks up so much that my teeth start to chatter. It's not actually all that cold. I'm just scared. I'm afraid he doesn't want me any more, after everything I've done for him, and he for me.

You have nothing, and you are nothing. Who ever wants nothing? Who ever chooses it. Nobody has ever, ever chosen nothing over everything. Why would he choose you, when he could have any other girl?

Why you?

The sound of an engine. I straighten, lift myself off the pole. The car drives past, not stopping or slowing. I don't recognise it. My heart falls.

He's so much better than you. You don't deserve him. You never have. What were you thinking?

I watch silently as the red tail lights of the car fade, disappearing completely as it dips to the other side of the hill in front of me. I retake my stance against the pole.

He's out of your league. You're not good enough. You've never been good enough. Not good enough for your family, not even for yourself. So why do you think you'll be good enough for him, he who has everything?

Footsteps. Behind me. I spin around, see a silhouette. The street lamp is behind him, I can't see his face, but I know it's him. It must be. It's in his walk, the slight limp. It's in his coat, that same black hoodie I bought for him for his 18th birthday. Only a year ago.

He's watching the ground, shuffling forwards slowly.

“Cassidy,” I say softly, holding out my hand. “Y- You came.”

Cass looks up, and sees me. A grin expands his face, his green eyes gleam at me, and my body grows light. I push off the pole and runs towards him as he runs towards me.

Five steps. Four. Three. Two. One.

I'm in his arms, and he's spinning me, squeezing my waist and lifting my toes off the ground. My green skirt flies around, floating away from my body as I giggle.

My feet touch the ground, his grip loosens, and yet his touch never leaves me. His hands at my waist slide around to my back, kneading gently at the tender skin there. He knows I have a bad back, that it's painful for me to stand for too long. He knows I've been standing for a long time, waiting for him.

He knows that I can't sit when I'm nervous, anxious. He knows that his being late gives me both nerves and anxiety.

And he still chooses you, even though you are nothing, and very much less than perfect.

He's perfect. Not perfect for you, because you're nothing, but he's still perfect.

We take steps backwards, my feet atop his. He holds me tightly against him, smiling down at me. He's gleaming. He's so gorgeous, so perfect, it pains me. But I'll take the pain, because it means I can be with him.

“Cassidy.” My voice is slow and quiet. I don't want to ruin this moment we've made so perfect.

Cass tilts his beautiful face to the side. “Jezebel?” He walks forwards more, taking me with him backwards. My back presses up against the pole, but it's no longer cold.

I run my hands up over his chest, feeling his muscles beneath my sensitive palms. My hands travel over his shoulders and up his neck, into his silky brown hair. To the top of his head, and then I push the hood off his face.

“I think . . .” I murmur, running my thumbs across his forehead. He shuts his eyes as I traces them, down his nose, my fingers lingering gently on his lips. “I think . . .”

Cass grunts and moves his hands down my waist, bending us both slightly so that he can reach the back of my knees. There, he curves his hands around my legs and lifts them up around his waist.

I quickly move my hands behind myself to grip to pole tightly so I don't slide down. “I think I love you.”

“Jezebel,” he mumbles into my hair, kissing my forehead gently. “Pull my hood up again, please.”

My breathing is fast, my pulse hard. “Why?”

“To give us some privacy.”

I remove one hand from the pole, gripping more tightly with my other, and quickly yank his hood back up over his hair before moving my hand back. Luckily, I don't slide down the pole.

“Thank you,” Cass tells me before dipping his head towards my own.

“You're very welcome,” I reply before his lips meet mine in a kiss.

Why you? Why does he want you?

As our mouths move together in gentle bliss, I finally know why.

As a deep passion blooms between us, I can finally accept it.

I moan quietly into his mouth, and he presses his body harder against my own.

As I fall in love with him even more, I am finally, truly happy.

Why you?

You're not perfect, no, but you're also not nothing. To him, you're something. You're his everything.

I smile into our kiss, open my mouth wider for him, ready for anything.

And it's because he loves you too.