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Mya
I'mable to hold in my tears until I'm behind closed doors. And when I finally let them fall, I do it silently. Into my pillow. With my eyes clenched tightly and my heart aching in my chest.
I couldn't say goodbye.
I felt it, but I didn't have the strength to say it, knowing if I did, I would lose him as a friend as well.
Not that we are more.
He refused to give that to me. To admit he felt what I felt. The spark. The attraction. The deeper connection that has been there since the first day.
He was scared to admit it back then, and he's scared to admit it now.
Either that, or it's all in my head.
Because since day one, that man has brought out a side of me I didn't know existed. He makes me feel adventurous and powerful. Wild and crazy. And I'm not just talking in the bedroom by asking to try new things, like using nipple clamps.
Though, that would be true too.
Before Brady, sex was ... boring. It was all blow jobs and missionary position. Without eye contact.
A lot of heavy breathing while Brian thrust into me. His groaning. Me trying to get into it before he came. Which never happened.
And now I know sex should feel like a wild ride.
I shouldn't have to wonder if I'm going to be able to get off. There's this thing called foreplay that works both ways. My body should respond to the way a man touches me, teases me. My panties—if I ever wore them—should be wet before they are removed.
By his teeth.
Shaking my head, I roll on to my back and stare up at the ceiling. I really need to stop having thoughts like that because what we had is done.
It was the best week of my life. I don't regret it for a second. And in time, I hope Brady and I will be able to find our way back to being friends. Even though it's not all that I want. The alternative is not having him in my life, though, and that's not something I think I will handle well.
This past year, we barely saw each other. A few times at parties and a couple more on campus. Brian was always with me, and I'd have to remind myself that I was in his arms at night and not Brady's. I'd made the choice to date Brian because Brady showed no interest.
It was hard not having him around more, not talking to him as much as I had the previous year, but it wasn't impossible. If we bumped into each other, we were cordial. We'd catch up a little and then go our separate ways. But I always caught myself looking back at him as he went.
Wishing. Dreaming. Praying he'd look over his shoulder as well. That he was feeling the same way I was feeling ... like a part of my life was missing.
He never did.
Not once.
That should have been my first clue that this wouldn't last. That it was all about the sexual thrill and not about real feelings. I've been fooling myself.
It was only eight days but feels like longer. It feels like we've been doing this dance for years. And I guess, in a way, I have, but he hasn't.
No matter what he said.
Because if he truly has wanted more since the first time we met, he wouldn't have given up so easily. He would have been honest with me. He would have given me more when I asked him to.
Words are cheap. Actions speak louder.
And he's made his stance on the matter perfectly clear.
I'm still draggingass this morning. I was late to my first class, and if I don't pick up the pace, I'm going to be late to my second class as well.
I spent the rest of Saturday holed up in my room, drinking water and streaming sappy romance movies on my laptop. Cleo came in and checked on me a few times, questioning where I’d disappeared to the night before, but when I refused to tell her anything, she'd leave in a huff only to return an hour later with more questions.
