Dear Liz

Her breath crashed against my lips in regular, healthy patterns after that. The smell of too much beers and God-knows-what-else entered my nostrils and in my head I kept repeating to myself 'I shouldn't have let Ashley kiss me,' 'I shouldn't have kissed her back.'

Not all was bad: Tim also decided it was a good time to show up.

"John, what happened?" he asked as I struggled to make Ashley stand relatively straight.

"Ashley here's had one drink too many. Can you look after her for a minute?" Tim nodded and walked towards us, placing an arm around her shoulder and another around her waist to hold her in place.

I felt terrible for not staying there to take care of Ashley –she was a dear friend of mine– but I just couldn't because:

1. I don't know how to deal with drunk people –I was usually the one being dealt with– and;

2. I needed to go to talk to Liz.

She probably thought by now I liked Ashley and all the chances I may have had with her had vanished in an instant.

I first looked for Melissa to tell her that her sister was most likely puking her brains out in the bathroom and, then, I went outside.
I really didn't think about it, I just wen't straight towards the bench.

Her bench.

Naturally, she was there, smoking a cigarette nervously.

"Taking the break without me, huh?" I said trying to lighten the mood and proceeding to fail ridiculously. I still managed to make her smile…the first fake smile I had ever seen upon her beautiful face, though. It was heart-breaking.

"I was looking for you and I couldn't find you. I thought you might have left," she said, almost certain of her lie. I pretended to buy it and sat down carefully, trying not to disturb the silence that had settled between us.

She handed me her pack of smokes and I took a cigarette and lit it without questioning. I was hoping the nicotine would make me feel better but that slight numbing effect that took place when I inhaled the smoke never happened.

What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? Was I even supposed to say or do something?
Yes, the first step was obviously trying to sort out my thoughts but they were all over place…it was hard to decide where to start.

I placed my hand inside my jacket's pocket and felt my car keys. I took them out and, without reflecting on it, I began carving my initials on her bench, right next to where her name was written down.
I didn't stop by the time I actually realized what I was doing. Maybe she'd notice. Maybe she'd get the hint i wanted that to be our bench.

Maybe she didn't notice or maybe she noticed and didn't want that because she suddenly stood up.

"I have to go….uhm…Jackie was looking for me…Yeah." She didn't even meet my eyes as she said the worst excuse I had ever heard. And then she began walking away.

'John,don'tlethergetaway, don'tlethergetaway, don'tlethergetaway.'

"Liz, wait." She stopped. I high-fived that little voice in my head as she –hesitatingly– turned around.

"Yeah?" I swallowed.

"I know you saw it."

"I–what? I don't– I have no idea what you're saying." I wondered if she realized how blatantly obvious it was the she was lying…
Of course she did. I needed her to admit and get on with my explanation. She needed to know how I felt.

"Lizzie, please." Lizzie. I don't know where that came from but it didn't seem appropriate at that time. I still liked the sound of it…and it seemed to do the trick.

"Yeah, okay…I did see it. I apologize. I won't tell anyone." She wasn't getting the point and I wished she would stop avoiding the subject. "I have to go now, though." She started walking away. That voice in my head repeated again to not let her get away but I had no idea what to say to stop her.
I searched my brain for ideas but it had shut down.

I stood up, ready to run after her if I had to. I followed my instincts, then. My heart.

"I'm sorry."

I'm sorry? What was I sorry for? Only for myself that I knew of. Yet, once again, it seemed like the right thing to say, because she stopped on her tracks for the second time. It took her a while to turn around but, when she did, my heart jumped.
This time, her pupils connected with mine. Circles of black surrounded by chocolate, by wood, by earth.

"What?"

"I kissed the wrong girl." I said it. It wasn't that bad, I wasn't that nervous. Maybe that would make her understand.

"I don't– I have to go." It didn't.

Her feet began moving and I was out of things to say so I decided to act. I quickly made my way towards her and caught her arm. What to do? What to say?
All I could say was all that there was to say.

"Liz, let me explain," her head hung and her hair covered her face. She shook her head, refusing to look at me. I wasn't letting go. I couldn't let her go until she listened to me. "Liz." my tone came out more demanding but she wouldn't budge. My grip tightened around her thin arms almost desperately, the voice still repeating to not let her go.

She finally looked at me, eyes welled up with tears.

"Please let go of me, John."

I didn't need the voice at the back of my head telling me to 'Let her go' to know that's what I had to do at that time. My hand wished to linger around her arm but released it slowly anyway.

I didn't move until after she entered the house and I went straight to my car so I could go home.
Once inside I hit the steering wheel a couple of times with al my strength out of frustration and anger. I could've punched myself.

That look of vulnerability and uncertainty I promised I would always keep away from her eyes just some days ago was back. Not only that but it was worse by tenfold, her eyes were watery and, what fucking killed me…

It was there because of me.