End of the Night

“So he just fucked you, and left?” I snap my head up to glare at Fleur, meeting her equally furious gaze and look back down. I want to believe that he didn’t just fuck me and leave, that we made love. That I meant something more to him than something warm to push into for the night.

But I’m not so sure I can convince myself of that.

I nod slowly, and adjust my sunglasses over the bridge of my nose. Fleur sighs grandly beside me, and leans back into the shaded beach chair, daintily sipping from her mimosa. I roll my eyes, and turn to face her, watching, waiting, knowing she’s about to ruin what little pep talk I’d given myself the day before.

Dramatically, she sits up; twisting her thick curls into a matted bun, and turns her head in my direction. “What did you expect to happen, Lena? Like, it’s Tyler, he doesn’t do deep feelings and shit like you do,”

The weight of her words tightens my chest, threatening to suffocate me. I’d always believed in love, believed that whispered words of affection into the night were not just in fairy tales. That the love shared between two people didn’t just have to end with breakups and marriages. That it lasted through death and beyond.

And Tyler was just the opposite.

Tyler was my best friend, that’s the way it had always been. Growing up, we’d always had just each other, with inattentive parents, and the challenges growing up in a Catholic private school held for us. The older Tyler got, the more girls seemed to notice him. He’d always
been cute, with his light brown hair and even lighter brown eyes. He’d grown into his long legs, broad shoulders, and gotten rid of the baby fat on his cheeks.

The more girls noticed him, the more I noticed him. Of course I’d known he slept around, never wanting to root himself to one girl, but I’d always known, the secret glances we’d share. His murmured words of affection, that I was the only girl he’d ever trust, that we’d leave this place one day, and just be free.

On nights when he refused to go home to his drunk of a mother, he’d slide into my bed, and we’d talk into the darkness, our love keeping us wrapped in a blanket of protection from the outside world. But when the harsh light of the next day pulled me to consciousness, he’d be gone, his words a memory and his touches fading where they’d once been.

But something had changed Saturday. His words were said in a way that he’d never said them, his touches frantic, pleading with me. And I’d believed it was time, this was him, my Tyler; finally ready to return my feelings of love. That when he’d shed his clothes, and I’d stripped bare, my soul, my heart, given to him, that this was what being in love felt like.

And when he pushed into me, his eyes closed, his head bowed, I held his jaw, stubbly from the day before, and I confessed my love, he’d only returned ‘I know’. And I’d taken it, my mind fogged by love, thinking he’d been too choked up with emotion to return the sentiment, that he’d be able to say it with a clear head.

But no.

He’d woken up, gotten dressed, and left. No words, no touches, just his retreating scent and the pieces of my heart shattered in his wake. I glance at Fleur, her words finally rousing me out of the slumber my head had fallen into.

“I just thought, I would kind of mean more to him than a fuck,” my words are harsh and bitter, but at this point, I’m out of tears. She shakes her head slowly, eyeing me carefully.

“You don’t see him clearly,” at my confused stare she continues, “I don’t think you could ever be just a fuck to him, Lena,”

“I’d thought so too,”

But she only turns back around, and stares out at the pool, the sunrays sparkling along the surface. I realize Fleur doesn’t get it, she’s all olive toned skin, and dark mysterious eyes, and thick, wild hair, and she has boys all over her. She’s been in love with her boyfriend for as long as I can remember, so she doesn’t see it, she doesn’t get it.

No one seems to get it.

---

Tap

Tap tap

“Lena!”

It’s Tyler. Tyler, Tyler, Tyler, tapping on my window at, 3:13 in the morning. I have half the mind to go back to sleep, he’ll give up eventually, but it’s Tyler, and I’m convinced in two seconds that this is the apology I’ve been waiting for. That this is the declaration I’ve been missing.

“It’s raining pussies and bitches out there,” he laughs, shaking out his wet hair and pulling off his hoodie and shirt. He’s left standing in wet jeans and the physique of an Adonis statue.

I turn to sit on my bed, vaguely aware of his dark gaze roaming my uncovered legs encased in merely sleep shorts and barely there tank top. In the darkness, I see him lick his lips slowly, taking in the moisture from the rain and causing my body to flush simultaneously. I hear the rustling of denim before I feel his shoulders knock into mine, pushing me back on the bed. His hands come up to roam the newly exposed skin of my midriff, causing me to gasp and latch onto him for support.

I’m overheating, desperate for breath as he nudges my legs apart and grinds into me. The heat between our bodies is electric, shocking me with every touch shared. As he leans his weight on me, I feel him, there, hot, pulsing, rigid. He groans as he comes in contact with me and nips at my breast with his mouth.

I’m running on sensory overload, wanting him to stop, but desperately craving this feeling of completeness. His hands are trailing fire as they massage the skin of my ankle before sliding, up, up to my hips where he holds and grounds into me. His animalistic intent is seeping through my skin, his harsh breaths invading my space, leaving me to be consumed by him. Only him.

It takes his fingers, sliding into my underwear, for me to come to my senses, flashes of Saturday night causing me to gasp and reel back.

“Tyler… Mmm… stop,” he pauses, his head tilted like a puppy not sure if they’d heard a scurrying cat in the distance, and pulls back to look at me. Bathed in the moonlight, his eyes are glowing, a deep, chocolate brown. He smirks down at my panting, my neediness.

“What is it, Lena?” And more flashes. Skin on skin, my words of wanting, his closed eyes and harsh breaths. And then I’m seeing him, leaning against my locker, cool, collected, me; shaking with heartbreak.

Lena, Lena, Lena

As if I were a baby. As if I were a child, anticipating a new toy and receiving something undesired.

You couldn’t have thought that-

But I could’ve.

I’m squeezing my eyes, holding back the emotions he can read on my face. I want it to stop, I want to be loved. By him, no one else, never anyone else. I want him to make it go away, and if only for tonight, I’ll take what I can get.

And then it’s a blur. My mouth can’t get enough of his, all sweet peppermint and boy. My hands don’t move fast enough when they tug down his boxers, when they claw at my top and bottoms. Until we’re lying there, gasping for air, my hands gripping onto him, needing him, feeling him pulse.

“Baby, condom,” Baby, is what he says, the simple term spreading warmth into my already flamed body. This time it’s a clash of skin. There are no words, but grunts, and moans. No worries about screaming because my Papi is gone as always. No gentleness, because he’s flipped me over roughly.

And I’m just thinking yes, yes, yes. Because I’ll never need anyone else besides Tyler, no one else could ever make me feel like this. No one could ever compare to Tyler.

But then, when the sunlight is there, bright and demanding, his side is cold, and I’m left with dried sweat and nausea.