Fingertips | ✓

three

When I awoke the next morning I did not expect for you to be gone.

The first thing I realised was the lack of body heat before my eyes peeled open with curiosity. When I saw that you weren't beside me or anywhere in the room I tried not to feel disappointed or let my sadness get the best of me. When it came to you, Bradley, all I could do was hope for the best even when you always delivered the worst.

I told myself that you probably left because you had work to get to. You were reckless about a lot of things but work was what you prioritised. It was what brought your income in after all.

Then I remembered that today was Saturday and you wouldn't have allowed yourself to get that drunk if it wasn't a Friday night.

I didn't believe you had left so I got up from the couch, wincing when it felt like something hit my head. I massaged my temples with my fingers once I was upright before I made my way to the kitchen, the first place I figured you would be. When you weren't there I checked the bathroom and when you weren't there either I checked my bedroom. You'd never had reason to check into the guest bedroom but of course I couldn't abandon hope. I peeled open the guest bedroom door slowly and I didn't realise I'd been holding my breath until I felt the air knock out of me when you were nowhere in sight.

I couldn't describe the pang that hit me. It was almost like a car drove straight at me out of nowhere and the oxygen was wiped from my lungs.

There was no reason you had to leave so why weren't here?

I scrambled back to the living room to get my hands on my phone. Once I got a hold of it I opened our messages, my fingers quickly swiping through the keyboard as I wrote a message. My finger hovered over the send button. I pressed my lips together as I analysed the message I had written out. Did it look like I sounded angry? Would you think I was desperate?

I sighed heavily before I decided to erase the entire message I had written out in a furious, panicky state. I rewrote the message, more calmly, and asked if you'd like to have dinner and a few drinks after. It was an ordinary question—we'd done this plentiful times before. Expect everything was different. 

You kissed me last night.

You made love to me last night.

Everything changed last night.

I shouldn't have been hanging over a text but I was. I anxiously waited for it, wondering what was talking you so long to reply. You were a fast responder, to anything, because you claimed that if you didn't reply in the instant you saw a message or an email or a missed call, you'd forget and probably never get around to answering it.

What if you saw my message but didn't know how to reply it? What if last night was awkward for you instead of joyful? What if you regretted what happened between us?

In the back of my mind I thought it was bound to happen. You and I were perfect for each other. Other people didn't think it but I did. You were perfect for me. I knew it and that was enough for me. I didn't need anyone else's validation.

It was not just your handsomeness that made me feel so attached to you. Granted it was your striking looks that did gain my attention, it was not the reason I fell in love with you. The more we spent time together the more you made me laugh. You understood me. You cared for me. You were everything I ever wanted and yet you were always so far away from my reach. You couldn't see what was standing right in front of your eyes.

I could love you like no other woman could. Why were you so blind?

It was after noon rolled by when my phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jean shorts. My body buzzed with the vibration and for a second my heart stopped. My phone had vibrated twice today but it hadn't been a message from you.