Part II ; stuff I'm never going to finish.
It started and ended like most things. It was unbelievably hot, and I was unbelievably horny and you were more trouble than you were worth, at least that’s what everyone said. I shook my head, I just needed sex, I needed something inside to fill this void. I told them I wasn’t looking for love, or a relationship, just cheap (preferably rough) sex and they shook their heads as they warned me. And I just shrugged them off and didn’t listen. I thought this was going to be short live, a brief night of passion and then never speaking each other again. I thought we understood each other that way. But from the moment you set your sights on me, you decided something, something that I was not aware of the first time I saw you.
“I was going to make you mine.”
Truthfully had I known that, I would have bolted. I wasn’t looking for that, I didn’t need that - relationships were complex and overwhelming, they took a lot of work that I didn’t have time for and a lot of effort I didn’t have. I think somewhere in the abyss of your subconscious you knew that, you knew that I was anxious and horny as fuck. You knew how exactly how to play me, with that coy smile on your ruby lips and that look in your chocolate brown eyes.
“You really need to stop being so attractive. Like, right now." I smiled, wide and flattered, after all this drama you were exactly what I was looking for. Someone easy, with a common interest, a pair of balls much different than my own - it was a Saturday night, and little did I know it, but it started the first and last day of the rest of my life.
This is how I met Julia.
You were nineteen, I was twenty-two. Numbers are what attracted you to me in the first place, I could provide our fuckhead little teenage friends booze, and I could drink for free. They promised me desperate girls starving for attention, but that’s not what I wanted, I didn’t want clingy girls who could be swept off their feet at the whisper of some cheap overused phrases, I wanted someone to cut right past the bullshit and skip right to the fun part. Enter you. Dark determined brown eyes, teeth baring, curvy hips and blonde curly locks. You weren’t pretty, you were sexy and fuck did you play your part just right.
“So rumor is you provided the booze for this party,” I shrugged sheepishly. This pleased you, and it light up your face. “I’m clearly not drunk enough.” Disappointment swept through me, and I stretched.
“Rum?” I was still a bit tipsy, but sober enough to go walking to the liquor store.
“You’re too kind.” You turned around, and I grabbed your arm; icy cold underneath my skin. Half turn, eyes slit back to me, looking a bit unpleased. “Yes?”
“Money?” You smile, moving too close for comfortable. I could feel your breast curving against my chest, I wanted to pull you closer, squeeze you tighter - shove my tongue down your throat. I could inhale your scent apples and a hint of liquor. But it was light, not nearly as powerful as other people around you. You were right, you clearly weren’t drunk enough.
“I was hoping to pay you, another way.” Bingo, I was down. It was a natural chemistry, or maybe the fact I hadn’t fucked a girl in three months. “Andrew, isn’t it?” I liked the way my name just rolled off your tongue or maybe, it was your fingers brushing against my chest. I felt the sexual tension between us. I think you enjoyed it, the fact that I wanted to rip your clothes off and take you right there. You knew it, you had to know it, tipsy or not.
“Yeah.” You stood on your tippy toes, I was at least a foot and half taller than you, your lip barely met the tip of my ear.
“Thank you.” You whispered. And I shivered.
x
It was innocent enough.
You were sitting on my lap sipping at your rum, watching with a giant grin on your face people play Kings. You don’t like drinking games, you’ll tell me later, you drink at your own pace. My hands wrapped around your waist, we were an odd pair, you and I. The most beautiful girl in the room, and me -
I knew the basics. I was tall for my age, my hair was always a mess and girls loved my blue eyes. I didn’t think I was particularly interesting, but I looked decent enough to catch people’s eyes. I laughed a lot, I said fuck a lot, and I was constantly trying to understand the world. This turned me from boyfriend to best guy friend within seconds. Of course, nobody could just come out and say that, they had to toy around with my knit-n-stitch heart until she realizes.
“I don’t love you like I used to.” It was tiring, dating girl after girl, ending up in the same mess that I’m always in. It was pathetic, and it was degrading and I was fucking done with it. I was done with girls who said it was hard to trust me because I was a guy. I’m sorry that the bastard before me fucked you up so hard that you can’t even fathom trust, I honestly am. But it seems every girl I chase has the same story, a complete asshole fucked her up. I stopped chasing girls because I couldn’t take it anymore. They may have been hurt before, but that doesn’t give them the right to hurt me. I didn’t fucking do anything. She’d say, “I have to do what’s best for me.”
Sometimes, although hardly anyone realizes this, there are no villains in conflict. Just people, doing what they think is best. Shades of gray all around, no black and white, or right or wrong.
I was done with it. I was done with the whole circle that was relationships. “Hey,” you call snapping my from my thoughts. “Do you wanna go upstairs?” I thought you’d never ask. You put your drink on the coffee table, knocking over a card or two causing a few of our friends to yell at you. You just flash them the bird in a graceful fashion, strutting your hips, it was crowded-you linked arms so we wouldn’t get separated, as if anything could do that. I was getting laid tonight.
x
Three months, twelve days, and four hours.
I knew you for two. Two hours and I was inside you, all over you. Condom after condom led to this moment, laying in bed relief swimming through my veins. You were hogging all the covers, but that didn’t matter to me. You didn’t believe in cuddling you thought it was too personal. I lick my lips, they tingle; feeling alone without yours colliding with mine. Without you, my lips seem useless. They were going to be swollen tomorrow, chapped more than likely. My neck ached at the marks you left on it, claiming me - owning me. I didn’t know it at the time, but you didn’t give hickies to just anyone. I didn’t know a lot of things about you, but I didn’t worry about it. I was never going to see you again, you were just a story that I was going to go home and tell my friends.
My eyes flickered, I yawned. I tried to tug the blankets back from you, but you were determined. You scooted away from me, almost on the edge of the bed. I stared at your back, your outline barely visible under the mass amount of blankets. But you were there. I had you. You had me. It was a strange feeling, this relief. My eyes flickered and sleep took me over. I fell asleep cold, but content. I wake up covered in blankets and warm. You were gone, I blink confused, wiping the gunk out of my eye. But then I realized, you weren’t my responsibility and I didn’t really care that you weren’t there.
Stringless meaningless sex. Life was good. Everything was fine, everything was great - I felt like I was on top of the world, it wasn’t until I began to look for my clothes, feeling I’ve overstayed my welcome in my friend’s household that I began to crash. I may have been drunk, but I remember piling my clothes (along with my keys, wallet, etc) in a nice neat stack by the dresser, instead of my stuff, was a single pair of women’s underwear. No shoes, no socks, nothing. You robbed me blind.
“Fuck!” I wrapped myself in the blankets and made my way down stairs. I ignored the beer cars and the bodies slumped over the sofa and near the exit. The sun was bright, it hurled itself at my eyes and I cringed.
“I was going to make you mine.”
Truthfully had I known that, I would have bolted. I wasn’t looking for that, I didn’t need that - relationships were complex and overwhelming, they took a lot of work that I didn’t have time for and a lot of effort I didn’t have. I think somewhere in the abyss of your subconscious you knew that, you knew that I was anxious and horny as fuck. You knew how exactly how to play me, with that coy smile on your ruby lips and that look in your chocolate brown eyes.
“You really need to stop being so attractive. Like, right now." I smiled, wide and flattered, after all this drama you were exactly what I was looking for. Someone easy, with a common interest, a pair of balls much different than my own - it was a Saturday night, and little did I know it, but it started the first and last day of the rest of my life.
This is how I met Julia.
You were nineteen, I was twenty-two. Numbers are what attracted you to me in the first place, I could provide our fuckhead little teenage friends booze, and I could drink for free. They promised me desperate girls starving for attention, but that’s not what I wanted, I didn’t want clingy girls who could be swept off their feet at the whisper of some cheap overused phrases, I wanted someone to cut right past the bullshit and skip right to the fun part. Enter you. Dark determined brown eyes, teeth baring, curvy hips and blonde curly locks. You weren’t pretty, you were sexy and fuck did you play your part just right.
“So rumor is you provided the booze for this party,” I shrugged sheepishly. This pleased you, and it light up your face. “I’m clearly not drunk enough.” Disappointment swept through me, and I stretched.
“Rum?” I was still a bit tipsy, but sober enough to go walking to the liquor store.
“You’re too kind.” You turned around, and I grabbed your arm; icy cold underneath my skin. Half turn, eyes slit back to me, looking a bit unpleased. “Yes?”
“Money?” You smile, moving too close for comfortable. I could feel your breast curving against my chest, I wanted to pull you closer, squeeze you tighter - shove my tongue down your throat. I could inhale your scent apples and a hint of liquor. But it was light, not nearly as powerful as other people around you. You were right, you clearly weren’t drunk enough.
“I was hoping to pay you, another way.” Bingo, I was down. It was a natural chemistry, or maybe the fact I hadn’t fucked a girl in three months. “Andrew, isn’t it?” I liked the way my name just rolled off your tongue or maybe, it was your fingers brushing against my chest. I felt the sexual tension between us. I think you enjoyed it, the fact that I wanted to rip your clothes off and take you right there. You knew it, you had to know it, tipsy or not.
“Yeah.” You stood on your tippy toes, I was at least a foot and half taller than you, your lip barely met the tip of my ear.
“Thank you.” You whispered. And I shivered.
x
It was innocent enough.
You were sitting on my lap sipping at your rum, watching with a giant grin on your face people play Kings. You don’t like drinking games, you’ll tell me later, you drink at your own pace. My hands wrapped around your waist, we were an odd pair, you and I. The most beautiful girl in the room, and me -
I knew the basics. I was tall for my age, my hair was always a mess and girls loved my blue eyes. I didn’t think I was particularly interesting, but I looked decent enough to catch people’s eyes. I laughed a lot, I said fuck a lot, and I was constantly trying to understand the world. This turned me from boyfriend to best guy friend within seconds. Of course, nobody could just come out and say that, they had to toy around with my knit-n-stitch heart until she realizes.
“I don’t love you like I used to.” It was tiring, dating girl after girl, ending up in the same mess that I’m always in. It was pathetic, and it was degrading and I was fucking done with it. I was done with girls who said it was hard to trust me because I was a guy. I’m sorry that the bastard before me fucked you up so hard that you can’t even fathom trust, I honestly am. But it seems every girl I chase has the same story, a complete asshole fucked her up. I stopped chasing girls because I couldn’t take it anymore. They may have been hurt before, but that doesn’t give them the right to hurt me. I didn’t fucking do anything. She’d say, “I have to do what’s best for me.”
Sometimes, although hardly anyone realizes this, there are no villains in conflict. Just people, doing what they think is best. Shades of gray all around, no black and white, or right or wrong.
I was done with it. I was done with the whole circle that was relationships. “Hey,” you call snapping my from my thoughts. “Do you wanna go upstairs?” I thought you’d never ask. You put your drink on the coffee table, knocking over a card or two causing a few of our friends to yell at you. You just flash them the bird in a graceful fashion, strutting your hips, it was crowded-you linked arms so we wouldn’t get separated, as if anything could do that. I was getting laid tonight.
x
Three months, twelve days, and four hours.
I knew you for two. Two hours and I was inside you, all over you. Condom after condom led to this moment, laying in bed relief swimming through my veins. You were hogging all the covers, but that didn’t matter to me. You didn’t believe in cuddling you thought it was too personal. I lick my lips, they tingle; feeling alone without yours colliding with mine. Without you, my lips seem useless. They were going to be swollen tomorrow, chapped more than likely. My neck ached at the marks you left on it, claiming me - owning me. I didn’t know it at the time, but you didn’t give hickies to just anyone. I didn’t know a lot of things about you, but I didn’t worry about it. I was never going to see you again, you were just a story that I was going to go home and tell my friends.
My eyes flickered, I yawned. I tried to tug the blankets back from you, but you were determined. You scooted away from me, almost on the edge of the bed. I stared at your back, your outline barely visible under the mass amount of blankets. But you were there. I had you. You had me. It was a strange feeling, this relief. My eyes flickered and sleep took me over. I fell asleep cold, but content. I wake up covered in blankets and warm. You were gone, I blink confused, wiping the gunk out of my eye. But then I realized, you weren’t my responsibility and I didn’t really care that you weren’t there.
Stringless meaningless sex. Life was good. Everything was fine, everything was great - I felt like I was on top of the world, it wasn’t until I began to look for my clothes, feeling I’ve overstayed my welcome in my friend’s household that I began to crash. I may have been drunk, but I remember piling my clothes (along with my keys, wallet, etc) in a nice neat stack by the dresser, instead of my stuff, was a single pair of women’s underwear. No shoes, no socks, nothing. You robbed me blind.
“Fuck!” I wrapped myself in the blankets and made my way down stairs. I ignored the beer cars and the bodies slumped over the sofa and near the exit. The sun was bright, it hurled itself at my eyes and I cringed.