Addicted to You
Chapter 1: Bend or Break
We all have secrets.
And by secrets, I don't mean something private. Because private is something that would be embarrassing if it got out. Secret is something that would get you in trouble.
Hidden relationships, addictions, desires, identities.
We all have secrets. What's yours?
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He cradled my face in his hands, looking deeply, hungrily into my eyes, and breathed out heavily.
"Please," he whispered, begging with his husky voice and his pleading eyes.
I shook my head. I wasn't ready. And he knew that. But the longer he stood there, looking at me and holding me, the closer I was coming to giving in.
I swallowed hard, a bead of sweat dripping down my spine, between my shoulder blades. I looked straight into his eyes.
"No," I told him. Firmly, yet apologetically. Even though I should have no reason to apologize for not compromising on my morals. I still felt like I had led him on with our... 'relationship'.
Dejectedly, his shoulders fell, and he took a step backward, grabbing his jacket from off of my bed. He slung it over his body, zipping it up about halfway. I followed him with my eyes as he left, taking long, heavy steps.
As soon as the front door closed, I knew I could relax. I exhaled heavily, as if I'd been holding my breath that whole time, and put one hand on my hip and the other on my forehead, trying to cool the rising heat.
Why do I allow this to continue? It didn't start out this way. He used to be my best friend. What are we now?
Let me take you back about a month ago. To a time before this mess.
It was a chilly November day, somewhere near the middle of Atlanta, Georgia. My parents are both modern art "representatives". Basically, that means that they travel the world and sell really pointless paintings and sculptures for ridiculous amounts of money. My older brother Ben is playing college football for Notre Dame. And I live with my Aunt Liz, who is a musician unknown to most of the world.
My best friend's name is Ryan. He's got dark, dark, dark brown hair with turquoise eyes. They captivate you the moment you look into them. We used to be so close that we were practically family. And it wasn't until a month ago that that changed.
It was when he decided he had gone too long without the perks of having a girlfriend.
It was when he asked me to be the one to help him out.
It was when I told him it was okay. When clearly, it isn't.
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We had never gone all the way. I told him I wasn't ready for that. And that I wouldn't be. I think that, at the time, he agreed because he thought I would cave. But I never did. It was almost like an addiction now. The feeling I get from kissing him. But there's absolutely no emotion behind it. He's still my best friend. I don't love him as more than that. But yet, I don't know how to stop.
30 days as a friend with limited benefits is not the kind of achievement I'd like to hang on the fridge.
And by secrets, I don't mean something private. Because private is something that would be embarrassing if it got out. Secret is something that would get you in trouble.
Hidden relationships, addictions, desires, identities.
We all have secrets. What's yours?
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>< ><><><><><><><><><
He cradled my face in his hands, looking deeply, hungrily into my eyes, and breathed out heavily.
"Please," he whispered, begging with his husky voice and his pleading eyes.
I shook my head. I wasn't ready. And he knew that. But the longer he stood there, looking at me and holding me, the closer I was coming to giving in.
I swallowed hard, a bead of sweat dripping down my spine, between my shoulder blades. I looked straight into his eyes.
"No," I told him. Firmly, yet apologetically. Even though I should have no reason to apologize for not compromising on my morals. I still felt like I had led him on with our... 'relationship'.
Dejectedly, his shoulders fell, and he took a step backward, grabbing his jacket from off of my bed. He slung it over his body, zipping it up about halfway. I followed him with my eyes as he left, taking long, heavy steps.
As soon as the front door closed, I knew I could relax. I exhaled heavily, as if I'd been holding my breath that whole time, and put one hand on my hip and the other on my forehead, trying to cool the rising heat.
Why do I allow this to continue? It didn't start out this way. He used to be my best friend. What are we now?
Let me take you back about a month ago. To a time before this mess.
It was a chilly November day, somewhere near the middle of Atlanta, Georgia. My parents are both modern art "representatives". Basically, that means that they travel the world and sell really pointless paintings and sculptures for ridiculous amounts of money. My older brother Ben is playing college football for Notre Dame. And I live with my Aunt Liz, who is a musician unknown to most of the world.
My best friend's name is Ryan. He's got dark, dark, dark brown hair with turquoise eyes. They captivate you the moment you look into them. We used to be so close that we were practically family. And it wasn't until a month ago that that changed.
It was when he decided he had gone too long without the perks of having a girlfriend.
It was when he asked me to be the one to help him out.
It was when I told him it was okay. When clearly, it isn't.
><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>< ><><><><><><><><><
We had never gone all the way. I told him I wasn't ready for that. And that I wouldn't be. I think that, at the time, he agreed because he thought I would cave. But I never did. It was almost like an addiction now. The feeling I get from kissing him. But there's absolutely no emotion behind it. He's still my best friend. I don't love him as more than that. But yet, I don't know how to stop.
30 days as a friend with limited benefits is not the kind of achievement I'd like to hang on the fridge.