Whilst he sat back, comfortable and indifferent, he revealed, “You know, I liked you for longer”.
In that room, just the two of them, his voice rang hazy in her ears; somehow he managed to phrase it and exaggerate the word ‘liked’, ofcourse highlighting its significance of the past.
As if she could ever forget he had now moved on.
If it wasn’t for the setting: him sitting on the corner couch, watching her under the covers, as she kept her eyes shut willing time to move back, his words could have sparked her undefeated hope. This time she was too preoccupied, to read in feelings between the lines and cling on to him once more.
Instead, she tried to push through her perplexed psyche. What could she say in reply to his natural candor but shake her head knowing it really was true.
She followed her characteristically defensive manner.
“So many boys screwed me over, you screwed me over”, her voice was muggy, like the feeling you get shaking a strangers’ clammy hands. She simply wanted to express the built up pain from these last two years in one meaningful murmur, except all she could think about was how abnormal this whole situation was. Like a scene from the movies, the new guy was in the bathroom, the old one had a key to the flat, her clothes were lying all over the floor. The setting was shambles; the next few days would be undoubtedly a mess of events.
She brought herself back from her ominous reverie, tried to concentrate on his voice as he said, “All I wanted was to be in love.”
“And I didn’t??”
Well, I was. All I wanted was for someone to ask how I’m doing. But you, god, you ran, fast, stopped and turned around for a second to hold my hand; and just as the wind rushed through my heart you spun once more and was off again.
He heard nothing but silence in reply to his final attempt, whilst she swallowed her words and he slipped out… the new guy, rubbing his eye, staggered back into bed.