Thirty-Eight.
You kissed me goodnight and got up and started to gather your things, around eleven. I didn't want you to leave. Nothing new there, but now, around two weeks after we danced on the rooftop, for some reason my distaste for the idea was stronger than it usually was. I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, fidgeting with the ends of the blue in my hair. I looked up, watching you. Inexplicably, I still feared you wouldn't return every single time you left. In my head, I knew you would- but when have my head and my heart every thought along the same lines, or agreed on anything at all?
You paused, studying my face. You knew. Of course you did; you always knew.
"You really, really don't like waking up alone do you?"
I shook my head. No, I didn't. I hated nothing more, actually. Yes, I woke up alone most mornings, but getting used to something doesn't always mean getting to like it.
"I can't stay."
"Why not?" I knew the answer, but asked anyways.
"Because I've been here for two nights in a row. I need clothes. I need to check on the apartment. I need to work at one point or another."
"I know."
"Bye, babe." You kissed me softly on the mouth, and walked out the door.
The place felt empty without you. I began to find myself wishing I'd never left your apartment. I was never lonely there. I pulled up the covers and buried my face in the pillow that still smelt faintly of you.
&&&.
A few days after that, my left over pasta from the night before was heating up in the microwave and I was vacuuming- mainly because I had nothing better to do. It was lunchtime and I was still wearing nothing but underwear and that oversized t-shirt of yours that had been serving as my pyjamas. It had been raining all morning and it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon, so I was set for a cosy day at home. I'd dragged my doona to the couch, along with a bunch of movies we'd hired out a few nights before. The thought of being all snuggled up on the couch with movies and pasta, and later ice cream, was my motivation to clean the apartment- and do it quickly so I'd be done when the pasta was ready.
My thoughts wandered to you, and how happy I'd been over the last weeks. Every day with you, every minute with you brought a smile to my face. You always knew just what to say, and every couple of days there'd be some sort of amazing surprise for me. I was realising that beneath the jock, player-like exterior you really were a hopeless romantic- even more so than I originally thought.
I smiled when I thought of the night we went to that hotel. There was one or two really, really classy, almost resort-style hotels in Manchester. One of them had its wings arranged in a U-shape, with a huge, beautiful pool surrounded by gardens in the centre of them. Around midnight, we'd been out to dinner and you took me around the back of the hotel. There was a hole in the fence, and we climbed through the gardens until we reached a ledge, about two metres over the water.
"Jump, I dare you." I whispered with a smile.
You grabbed my hand.
"Only if you will."
"Baby, whatever you jump off, wherever you jump into; I'll jump with you."
"One, two..."
"Three."
And, fully clothed, we jumped. Still underwater, you pulled me close and kissed me. Back at the surface I shook my hair to get it out of my face- that sort of backfired, and I no longer had a bit of hair in my face, but most of my hair. You laughed and brushed it away, kissing me again. We were interrupted by a dog barking, accompanied by a chunky, dark skinned man in completely black clothing with a flashlight. Security- great. We ducked back under water and swam to an edge of the pool that was still entirely in the dark. We jumped out and into the gardens, making our way back to the hole in the fence. By the time we got back to the little street, we were entirely covered in dirt- things stick better when you're soaking wet. We sat down with our backs against the fence and started laughing. I'd never felt so free; so alive.
