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I moved out of the apartment a week later, too many memories inside it for me to breathe. I packed her things, sent her a text to let her know that they’d be waiting for her, and then I left. Never to return.
I never moved on. Couldn’t. She was my forever and without her, forever didn’t exist.
SEVEN
The first few weeks went rather well. Seven and I went on a few dates. A polite kiss at the door, and then he went on his way. We texted and talked throughout the day. He didn't push the boundaries that were in place. He was a total gentleman.
David, I saw him twice for coffee and to talk. He'd met a girl that he was interested in. But it was still rather new. So he was taking it slow because his ex broke his heart in the last relationship he was in. We'd had sex a few times over the past couple of weeks. However, the more that I hung out with Seven, the less right having sex with him felt.
Whether it was to meet up to hang out or for sex, he never crossed the line either. It was almost too perfect. Maybe I should have been able to manage the two of them with no issues, but once I got home, I was lonely. I wanted to cuddle in bed with someone. At first, it didn't matter which of them it was. Then things shifted. The more that Seven and I went on dates, the more that I wished it was him laying with me at night. I knew it had everything to do with our dates. He was affectionate. When he opened doors for me, his arm would go around my waist. At dinner he pulled my chair out, then he would caress my shoulders. He always kissed me goodnight, stopping just as my toes were about to curl. Never crossing the line. He always arrived on time for our dates with flowers and when we parted ways, I had more than a little to smile about.
That's why I was laying here alone, thinking about him and wondering what it would be like to just have him hold me. I wasn’t trying to break the rules, but my need for more was clawing at my conscience. Nothing in the rules said that I couldn't call him for a late-night conversation.
“Hello.”
“Are you busy?” It was the first question out of my mouth and I couldn't help but cross my fingers, hoping he wasn’t.
“Not at all. I’m sitting here watching TV. Thinking about a few things.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, like when I dropped you off earlier, I didn't want to go. It seems like the more that we spend time together, the harder it is to just leave you at the door. I understand why we have these rules in place. The anticipation is well worth it. But it's figuring out how to balance it with my urges.” He paused and I waited him out to see if there was more. “Do you remember how we used to lie on the couch and watch TV? You'd be in my arms, snuggled up with a blanket, leaving me out in the cold.”
I giggled. “You weren't out in the cold.”
“I was freezing! I miss that. And I know we'll get there. I'm not gonna rush it. But I can’t wait until we do.”
“What are you doing now?”
“I told you, sitting on the couch watching TV.”
“Come, lay with me.”
“It's got to be a trick.”
I laughed because even though he was skeptical, I could hear how ready he was through the way he spoke. As if he was strategizing on how to avoid the pitfalls he couldn’t see.
“No silly! I mean, go climb in your bed and hold me while we talk.”
“Shit! We haven’t done this in a long time.”
It was something we did while we dated. I was glad he remembered. I would ask him to hold me over the phone. He would climb into bed as if I was there next to him. The way I envisioned it is that he held a pillow, wishing that it was me. And there was his bedroom voice. It was smooth, deeper, and more relaxed, too. We would just have pillow talk. It didn't matter what conversations came up. We’d be together, shunning the outside world, and staying in our bubble.
I could hear him moving about and then the silence of his bedroom, different from the living room he’d been in. Then the sheets ruffled, and I pictured him climbing underneath.
“Come here.” He said to me.
I curled into my sheets, relaxing into the moment, almost as if I could feel him behind me with her arms wrapped tight.
“I'm here.”
“Closer.”
I sighed, embedding myself into my sheets. Succumbing to the chills he’d provoked.
“I'm here,” I whispered.
“You feel good.”
