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He would stalk her Instagram page daily. She hasn't been posting lately, but then again, neither has he. So he would scroll through her old pictures and posts, saving a few to his camera roll to keep her close.
It took every single ounce of the effort in his body to keep himself from going over to her place and camping out just to catch a glimpse of her.
He threw himself into his studies, late nights at the library, and early workouts to stay in shape. He isn’t going to lie to himself and say it was for himself. It was for Melody. She loved his body, and if there was even a small chance he sees her again, he wants her to look at him like she did this past summer.
He doesn't have time for anything else, much less dating. He didn't exactly have trouble finding a willing female to take the edge off, but they didn't quite scratch the itch.
He really did try to move on, but trying to find a replacement for Melody was like trying to find a single match in a burning building. He went through so many girls that first semester that he lost count. Meaningless bj's in the back of a rideshare, a quick fuck in the back alley of a club.
His eyes drifted shut to think about Melody’s lips wrapped around his cock. That's the only way he could come. He never reciprocated, never stopped to think about the girls’ feelings.
What for?
He had shit to do. Basically, he turned into an asshole. His mother would be so disappointed in the way he was treating these girls, but they didn't matter.
Only Melody did.
Scrolling through her social media once again, he sees a new post. A picture of her smiling face, radiant almost.
God, he missed her face and her mouth.
--Heading home for the Holidays! Much needed–
She captions it with a little Christmas Tree.
She's coming home. She's coming here. He had only been home for two days, and everything in this house reminded him of her. He couldn't even go into the restroom without getting hard.
Maybe they could start over? Maybe they could have a real conversation about their future?
Fuck, who is he kidding? Their circumstances haven't changed. But maybe he could get a taste, for old times sake.
Melody
__________________
She had been back home for almost a week. She dropped the baby bomb on her parents.
They were thrilled, didn't even ask about a father, not a single question about who put a baby in her belly.
Then again, she knew they wouldn't pry her for any details she wasn't ready to give. She did, however, ask them to please keep this information to themselves. She was worried about Marisol.
She would see right through her, which is why she had been hedging phone converstions and video calls the past month. But she knew she had to tell her eventually, this was just not a conversation you had over facetime.
Staying away from Graham's house was proving to be more difficult than she had imagined, she knew he was there. She may or may not have stood at her bedroom window longer than she should have. Every morning for the last few days at the ungodly hour of 5 a.m. just to watch him run up and down his hill.
Sadly, he wore a shirt for most of his workout, only taking it off for his cool down at the top of the hill, facing her house like he knew she was watching.
Everyday like clockwork he was up on that hill and every day like clockwork she would sit at her window.
Apparently she had put off Rosa long enough. So long in fact, that Rosa had to call her parents to get her to come over to family dinner. So here she is, getting ready to go, putting on her clothes like armor before an epic battle.
She needed to be able to sit across from Graham pleasantly and not try to mount him or, worse, burst into tears.
This was it. She needed to tell Marisol.
Melody: Hey, can we talk before dinner?
Melody: I have to tell you something and I'd rather do it in person.
