(no subject)
she was in her apartment, and the navy blue skirt and jacket were in wrinkled piles on the floor. and she was lying on her bed in her slip, and her pillow was wet and tear-stained because she kept thinking about what he had said to her about the other woman.
"i've been seeing someone else for about three months," he said when he dropped her off from their date, and she invited him over for a romantic weekend. her roommate was going out of town. they could have some fun, she'd said, and her eyes were wide and her mouth was coy. they were sitting on her bed. she took his hand and kissed all five of his thick, powerful fingers.
instead, he went ahead and confessed it all. he kept trying to tell her, he explained, but he didn't want to hurt her. he pulled his hand from her grasp when he said it. she let her own hand fall to her knee, and her fingernail dragged a run in her hose. she couldn't look at him.
"you should have told me." it was the first thing that came out of her mouth, and it didn't sound like a chastisement; it rang as apologetic in both of their ears. he was fingering his wristwatch nervously; his mouth was a straight line.
she wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how she'd die without him - how she'd die for him, even - but she felt the words crumbling before they reached her tongue. he was looking at something on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding her eyes. she suddenly felt angry, and wanted to grab his head on either side and jerk it down to her level, hopefully breaking his neck in the process.
"i just thought i should tell you," he finally said, "before things got too serious between us."
"oh," she said. "well, thanks." out on a date a few weeks before, he had told her that he thought he loved her.
everything felt wrong. she had suspected that there was something he hadn't been telling her, but she'd never imagined that he had someone else, and she was just a side-fuck.
"i guess i'll be going then. i hope we can still be friends." he stood up faster than necessary and went a little off-balance. she started to hold out her hand, started to help steady him, but she drew it back and folded her arms across her chest.
"of course we can still be friends," she heard herself say.
he steadied himself and looked at her doubtfully, but didn't say anything. she dropped her eyes back to the run in her hose. the red lacquer on one of her fingernails was chipping. she hoped he hadn't seen it.
"i'm sorry," he said, but didn't say. she'd only thought she'd heard it.
"i've been seeing someone else for about three months," he said when he dropped her off from their date, and she invited him over for a romantic weekend. her roommate was going out of town. they could have some fun, she'd said, and her eyes were wide and her mouth was coy. they were sitting on her bed. she took his hand and kissed all five of his thick, powerful fingers.
instead, he went ahead and confessed it all. he kept trying to tell her, he explained, but he didn't want to hurt her. he pulled his hand from her grasp when he said it. she let her own hand fall to her knee, and her fingernail dragged a run in her hose. she couldn't look at him.
"you should have told me." it was the first thing that came out of her mouth, and it didn't sound like a chastisement; it rang as apologetic in both of their ears. he was fingering his wristwatch nervously; his mouth was a straight line.
she wanted to tell him how much she loved him, how she'd die without him - how she'd die for him, even - but she felt the words crumbling before they reached her tongue. he was looking at something on the other side of the room, deliberately avoiding her eyes. she suddenly felt angry, and wanted to grab his head on either side and jerk it down to her level, hopefully breaking his neck in the process.
"i just thought i should tell you," he finally said, "before things got too serious between us."
"oh," she said. "well, thanks." out on a date a few weeks before, he had told her that he thought he loved her.
everything felt wrong. she had suspected that there was something he hadn't been telling her, but she'd never imagined that he had someone else, and she was just a side-fuck.
"i guess i'll be going then. i hope we can still be friends." he stood up faster than necessary and went a little off-balance. she started to hold out her hand, started to help steady him, but she drew it back and folded her arms across her chest.
"of course we can still be friends," she heard herself say.
he steadied himself and looked at her doubtfully, but didn't say anything. she dropped her eyes back to the run in her hose. the red lacquer on one of her fingernails was chipping. she hoped he hadn't seen it.
"i'm sorry," he said, but didn't say. she'd only thought she'd heard it.