My Love Story (So Far…)- Chapter Ten

Please be reminded; any names of people portrayed in this series are altered to protect their identities.

I awoke to my friend lightly tapping my shoulder. As I opened my eyes, crusty with last night’s mascara, I sat up and held my head in my hands. Wonderful. My first hangover.
“What time is it?” I asked her. She told me it was two in the afternoon and that we’d all slept in longer than intended. Instinctively, I turned my gaze to the empty couch where Thomas had been. Before I could ask, she told me he’d left for work hours before anyone was even awake. I nodded, but felt a tinge of disappointment.
She tossed me a can of ginger ale from the fridge as I held it up to my head. I struggled to recall what had happened the previous night.
“Well, you were doing great until that tequila sunk in. Then you and I decided to go dancing outside in the snow and you kind of fell into…well, everything. The tree, the table, the fence, the fireplace, the barbecue, which is where you wound up with that battlescar there,” she explained as she motioned to my arm. I lowered the can to see what she meant and sure enough, there was a cut straight down the side of my forearm. I felt no pain, but it sure looked awful.
“Geez; I can’t believe I got that out of control…” I murmured. I took my first sip of the ginger ale and crinkled my nose at the taste. “Why do I taste vomit?”

“Well, that’s kinda how you wound up on the loveseat. The rest of us were pretty much gone, but Thomas was still basically sober. You started to get sick and he looked after you for the rest of the time,” she explained with a laugh. I buried my face in my hands.
“So you mean to tell me I danced around, fell into everything and essentially passed out in a pool of my own vomit and had Thomas drag my drunken arse into the loveseat?” I asked. My friend nodded, “yep.”
I sighed in shame. Well, I’m never gonna be able to show my face around him again. My friend offered me a ride home and I decided to accept; I was in no condition to take the bus at this point.
“Before we go, could you do me a favour and get me his number? I need to apologize for yesterday; it’s only fair. I owe him baked goods,” I stated as I removed the blankets from over my shoulders. My friend looked at me with amusement and said, “you don’t bake.”
I downed the rest of my ginger ale. “Well, it’s time I learned, don’t you think?”

I sent Thomas a quick text apologizing for my behaviour the previous evening and thanked him for being such a good sport about the ordeal; he responded respectfully and I left it at that, returning to nursing what had to be the worst hangover in the history of hangovers.

A few weeks later, Aaron and I had further lost our fire. I found myself going through the motions as I began to wish for him to just say or do something awful so I wouldn’t feel so terrible about how I felt towards him. To make it worse, I often found myself wondering how Thomas was doing.
One afternoon, my mother and I were watching television with lunch when I heard a car door shut from outside the house. I glanced out the window to see one of my friends from the party making his way up the walkway. I was pleasantly surprised and started to rise to go grab the door when I saw Thomas appear around the corner, following him over. In a panic, I scrambled to the stairs.
“Where are you going? You’ve got company,” my mother stated, confused at my sudden outburst. As I fled into my room, I shouted my reply, “don’t let them in! I’m not pretty yet!”

I quickly changed just as I heard the knocking at the door and came downstairs to meet them. We’d spent the day watching anime and relaxing together at my friend’s house. I found myself rather nervous around Thomas, wishing the butterflies would cease. Whenever he looked at me, I would find it difficult to take my eyes away from his. Dammit. Why did they have to be blue?

Weeks later, my friends and I had decided to see another movie, and end it on a ‘fort night.’ We planned to make a blanket fort in their house, eat snacks, watch movies, and basically have an old-fashioned sleepover. That morning, I baked a batch of double-chocolate cupcakes for everyone, but mainly for Thomas. I suppose I’m nothing if not a woman of my word.
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fter we had finished the movie, my friends purposely filled their truck with junk so I’d have to go with Thomas. The drive from the theatre was a fair ways away, and my friends knew very well that he had often been on my mind. Worse yet, they understood my numbness to Aaron. While the drive was somewhat awkward, we filled the silence with small-talk and idle banter, but I remember feeling that sitting beside him in the passenger seat of his car just felt right somehow.
We held the fort-night as we’d planned, finished off the cupcakes, and as the night came to a close, all four of us had fallen asleep side-by-side in our separate blankets. Thomas was right beside me and I recall having the happiest sleep I’d had in months. All too soon, dawn had come and I had to return home. However, after having spent that time with Thomas, I had started to realize the feelings I was developing for him were unlike anything I had felt in any relationship I’d been in.

It felt as though I were in second grade again. I found myself believing in the possibility of love again, and whenever I thought of him, nothing else mattered. Somehow, though I trusted no one else, I felt I could place my trust in him. I felt I could give him the benefit of the doubt. I felt that one day I could even give him my heart if he would have me.

I knew what I needed to do. I felt as though I had finally found the person each failed relationship was leading me to. Something inside me said that I was born for him. I decided it was time to break it off with Aaron.

I met Aaron at his house and sat him down to talk, but as I continued my lead-up to the difficult part of the conversation, he pulled me into his arms, pleading that I don’t continue. Knowing his pain was nearly unbearable, I teared up as I finished my thought. I had told him we needed to end it and that I wasn’t the person he was meant to be with, but he broke in front of me. I had never seen him so distressed and afraid. I had never seen someone wish so badly for me to stay.
I broke down and took back what I’d said, terrified that if I left then and there that he would do something drastic in his pain. I returned home, kicking myself for giving in as I’d done. I sighed and put the idea out of my mind; my friends, Thomas and I were going on a day trip to the mountains the next day, so at least I had that to look forward to.

When I met my friends the next morning, one of them asked me how my conversation with Aaron went. I sighed and told her what had happened, ashamed to admit that I’d let myself crack. The day continued as we walked the townsite, I noticed Thomas seemed a bit more gruff than I was used to seeing him. I pulled my friend aside and asked her if he was alright when she’d told me, “I think he was planning on asking you out today, but since you’re still with Aaron, I think he’s a bit disappointed.”
Mentally, I kicked myself for messing up what could have been the perfect setting for the beginning of a relationship. I decided to enjoy the day, regardless. We all had lunch on the patio, tossed the football around, enjoyed the sunlight, and delicious food before heading back as the sun set over the mountains. From our friends’ home, Thomas dropped me off at my house and I resigned myself to my decision to end things with Aaron once and for all.

That night, I asked Aaron to walk with me. Forcing my blood to go cold, I told him cracking was my mistake and that staying in the relationship would only make things worse. He was still broken, but I made my way home before he could try to talk me out of it. My decision was made, and the sooner I had it done, the sooner we could leave it behind us. I knew Thomas was the next page in my story, and every bone in my body told me the chapters ahead would not be easy; but they would have one thing the previous chapters lacked.

A love I was willing to live for.
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To be continued…


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My Love Story (So Far…)- Chapter Nine

Please be reminded; any names of people portrayed in this series are altered to protect their identities.

I stepped away from dating after Seth, but the pain lingered for much longer than I’d like to admit. Whenever a man came along that I found myself liking, I would pull away out of distrust. I even started pulling away from my own friends and family. Regardless of who it was, I found myself questioning everything people did or said around me. Internally, I was in a rage, but on the outside, I simply seemed as though I couldn’t be phased by anyone.

It was well over a year before I happened across an old acquaintance from junior high named Aaron. I didn’t know him very well at the time, but we found ourselves talking often, becoming good friends in the passing months. I decided I would invite him to the summer festival that was being held in the city. We met up at the bus stop one beautiful day and started the night as friends; I did not suspect we would leave as lovers.

When we arrived, the crowds were already bustling. We spent the day walking around, talking, going on rides; he’d even won me a little Pikachu toy in one of the games. We’d stayed there until late into the night before we’d decided to find our way back to our area. We lived close to each other, so we found ourselves sitting on the grass waiting for the worst of the crowds to clear before catching the last train of the night. It was there he admitted he wanted to be more than friends.
At the time, I felt conflict. I was uncertain of whether or not to allow myself to try again, fearing that I would only wind up looking like a fool in the end. As the day had passed, I decided I did not fancy the idea of swearing off dating forever; and if I were to have a chance with someone, surely a man that was a close friend beforehand would be as good a risk as any. He walked me home that night and after brief seconds of somewhat awkward silence, we shared a kiss before he started making his way back to his house.
I felt happy; I knew being with him would be easy and uncomplicated. There was a lingering sense of doubt in the back of my mind, but as the months passed, the doubt faded as I allowed myself to sink further into the relationship.

He was a good man to be with, and capable of making me laugh, but the whisper-quiet nagging in the back of my consciousness grew louder once more after we had been dating for about a year. When he had told me he loved me, and I said I’d returned those feelings, I desperately wanted to believe it was true, but my heart was still closed off. Despite our chemistry, I was unable to shake my growing distrust in him. While I never had solid proof of the fact, I had suspected he was in love with a woman he worked with. I never pried; I knew I didn’t want to know either way.
As each month passed, I started to realize where I stood. It was a difficult pill to swallow, but I knew I had accepted him out of fear of loneliness, thinking I ought to be with someone who loved me, even if I could not return that affection. I was angry with myself for only realizing it so far into the relationship, and as I pondered how to bring it up, I did not know where to start. Whenever I thought I was about to bring up the subject, the selfish fear of loneliness crept back into my view. So you’ll leave a man who loves you; would you rather have nothing?

One night, I was invited out to a friend’s birthday party. As we gathered at the theatre, my friends mentioned we were waiting on one more person to join us; his name was Thomas. As fate would have it, I was somewhat familiar with our final guest, having been aware of him in high school. Though we’d never spoken, something about him had stood out subtly in my mind. It had been a few years, and I’d long since forgotten my curiosity. As our attention turned to the entrance, we spotted him making his way through the doors. We called out to him and I waved him over, surprised that I was happy to see him. I’d hardly ever met him, really.

I shrugged off the thought and we piled into the theatre. I was sitting between Aaron and my friend, but we’d spent the movie in silence. As the credits rolled, we waited for the crowds to pile out of the theatre before we hopped into the cars and made our way to Aaron’s house. The party would continue at my friend’s place, but he had to work the next day. We bid farewell and I hopped into the car with the others, feeling the tension disappear.

When we’d arrived, Thomas and I sat quietly on the couch as our friends started to crack out the liquor. I’d only been drunk twice in my life, and was not generally a fan of alcohol, but I recall feeling butterflies in my stomach that I had not felt since second grade as I glanced at Thomas. I remember thinking, “was he always this tall?” As my friends handed me my first drink, I shook off the thought and as we pulled out the beer pong table, I decided to up the ante; by playing with a bottle of raspberry vodka. I was doing alright until my friend decided to see how I handled my tequila.
Declaring I could handle anything they gave me, I downed two shooters of the tequila and was fine for about half an hour. At some point, I’d passed out, more drunk than I’d ever been in my life.

Sometime late in the night, I’d opened my eyes to the darkness of my friends’ living room. I was lying on the loveseat with a blanket over my body. In the darkness, I saw a shape on the nearby couch. When I realized the shape was snoring, I knew it was Thomas. In my groggy, half-asleep state, I recall feeling a sense of warmth at the knowledge that he was nearby and slipped back into sleep with a smile on my lips.

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To be continued…


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My Love Story (So Far..)- Chapter Eight

Please be reminded; any names of people portrayed in this series are altered to protect their identities.

I managed to get a hold of Seth and made my way over to his house, contemplating what I was going to say. When I arrived, he greeted me with a hug and leaned in for a kiss, but I turned my cheek instinctively and asked him to take a seat. I could almost see his heart drop and explained to him how I had been feeling, telling him I thought it best if we end the relationship before things got worse.
To his credit, he took it very well and handled it maturely. I collected my things and we hugged. I knew he was fighting back the tears, so I thought it best to leave so he could let out his emotions; I knew he wouldn’t want to do so in front of me, especially not now. I walked out the door and returned home, feeling a surprising sense of relief. It almost felt as though I had been holding my breath for a long stretch of time, and had finally allowed myself to exhale. The air felt cleaner, the sun shone brighter, and I knew I had done the right thing.

After a few weeks, I got in touch with Ryder. We’d decided to catch a movie one night and I recall being nervous the entire time. We ended the night on a simple kiss before I made my way home, giddy and eager to see him again.

One day, I decided to go hang out with him at his place. We spent the time watching movies and as one thing lead to another, we wound up sleeping together. He had to work early the next morning, so we drove to the area of his shop and went our separate ways. I remember practically dancing home.

We hung out more often and I’d learned more about he and his career. I had also learned that he had a son whom he often saw. While that fact surprised me, I didn’t care; I was falling for him hard and fast, and was ready and willing to accept anything at that point if it meant he’d want me. I knew he was still hung up over the mother of his child, but I was willing to work through any scars he had.
Before too long, however, he started to do things that seemed all too familiar. He was less talkative, unavailable more often, and he started to do and say things that would throw me off. For example, he once described me as the ‘expendable red-shirt’ in his circle. That struck me like a dagger through the heart, but I laughed it off as a joke.

I started to notice a trend. Whenever I would strike up a conversation or try to say hello to him, my messages would be ignored. Then weeks later, he would call me, asking if I wanted to hang out. I was just happy to hear from him at all, so of course, I obliged, but I started to learn that he was only calling me when no one else was answering, or when he felt lonely. Regardless, I still wanted to be around him whenever I could.

I can clearly recall the last night we’d spent together. The next morning, he dropped me off at the nearest train station, but he didn’t drive off while I walked away. Then I remember passing by an alternative girl with bright pink hair. I had a feeling in my stomach when I passed her and waited inside the station to where the glass windows overlooked the lot. As I suspected, I watched her climb into the passenger seat of his car, and he drove away. The numbness started to show it’s ugly head once more as I took the long trip home, uncertain of where to go from there.

I stopped attempting to get in touch as much, but like an obedient little puppy, I would always answer when he called and show up when he requested. To this day, I shake my head at the memory. I knew I had meant next to nothing to him, but anytime he told me he was sad or lonely, I was right by his side with what may as well have been the snap of his fingers. So desperate to impress him and to show him how much I cared, I knew I would do anything he asked if it meant he would smile even if only for a moment; and even though I could feel myself die a little every time I heard his name or saw his face, I would keep up the charade for nearly a year before he’d drawn the final straw.

It was New Year’s Eve, and I had planned to invite a few people over to have dinner, then head out to see the fireworks. More than anything, I was crossing my fingers for Ryder to show, but to my dismay, no one showed up at all. I’d spent the countdown alone, having thrown or put away most of the food I’d prepared and finished the bottle of wine on my own as I let my desire for sleep take me. The next day, he texted me and asked how my evening was. Unwilling to tell him how I felt, I simply said it was quiet and uneventful. Still, he must have known I was hurting, so he invited me out to run errands with him.

When the time came to decide whether I would go home with him or otherwise, he decided to drop me off at the bus stop in the downtown core. It wasn’t quite midnight yet, so I knew I would still be able to catch the last bus. As he drove away, I put my earbuds in my ears and let the sadness hit me again.
To my surprise, a couple minutes later, I felt someone tug at my handbag. I turned to see a man in a brown hoodie trying to pry my purse from me. When he realized I wasn’t letting go, he stepped in and delivered a swift punch to my rib-cage. In a pained panic, I reached out with the palm of my hand and pushed up on his nose with a swift thrust, knocking him to the ground as I started to run to the next bus stop.
I managed to flag down the bus and got on, managing to escape and return home somewhat safely. I didn’t even call the police to report anything. I simply checked my bruises to make sure they weren’t too serious, curled up, and went to bed.

As the days passed, I started to let the pain really sink in. I began to understand that Ryder would never love me, regardless of my actions. I sent him a message, essentially saying farewell, and turned my back on him as I knew I should have done nearly a year ago.

I felt no relief. Only sadness. I felt that through the course of his influence, I had lost so much of myself and despite the fact that I had ‘left’ him, I still wanted him near me.
When I had met him, I did not suspect I would fall for him as hard as I did, nor did I think he would be capable of inflicting so much pain on me. To this day, he remains my most damaging ‘relationship’ I have ever allowed myself to be in.
333551_origTo be continued…


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My New Feature: Personality Quizzes!

Hi there, folks!

I’m happy to announce I’ve come across a quiz-making site I quite like. Back in the day, I used to create quizzes on Quizilla.com for fun before they were bought out and eventually shut down. Having missed it, I’ve decided to launch my own line of personality quizzes for you to try out. Whether you’re curious or just plain bored, I hope you enjoy them regardless!

My first official quiz has been released just now, so go ahead and check it out. Don’t forget to check back for more quizzes in the future.

What would your Hogwarts House be?

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Is there a quiz you’d like to see? Suggest it by commenting below, or email me at bloodstone.commissions@outlook.com so I can look into creating it!

~Miss Bloodstone


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My Love Story (So Far…)- Chapter Seven

Please be reminded; any names of people portrayed in this series are altered to protect their identities.

Due to my habit of skipping classes and not showing up to school, when graduation crept near, I decided to stay back one more year to tie up my academic loose ends. By the time my Grade 13 year began, the rumours had become old news and people started focusing on other things. I knew I didn’t want to bother dating for some time, so I decided to simply do my own thing, hoping this year would pass quickly so I could finally leave behind all the bad memories and move on with my life.

I had started to reach out and reconnect with some old friends. As fate would have it, my first boyfriend (Seth) started contacting me with casual conversations. I knew my feelings for him hadn’t gone away, but the pain had long died down. Conversation turned to coffee, then coffee turned into a lunch date. Before we knew it, we were in a relationship again. I was slightly concerned about the whole thing when it all started; after all, I remember how horrible I felt the last time we parted.

I knew I had grown much over the years, however. As time passed, our relationship built and we even lived together for about a year. Granted, the circumstances as to why I moved in with him weren’t the greatest. When you’re at that age and living with your parents, personalities have a tendency to clash. So I figured, “I’ll move in with my boyfriend; whom you despise, by the way. That’ll show ya.”
All things considered, our relationship was going well; I may even say it was thriving. The distance did my family and I some good as my relationship with them began to grow much less toxic. However, over two years of being with Seth began to wear on my nerves. I don’t know what changed, but it seemed as though suddenly, everything he did just made me cringe. I tried to shrug it off and pretend I was just in a weird state of mind; surely it would pass.

The leaves changed, the weather began to grow colder, and I found myself growing distant. We started to get into more arguments, and I found myself feeling physically sick whenever he touched me or held me. I started to go for late-night walks just to get away. In retrospect, I couldn’t imagine how confusing my behaviour must have been for him at the time. I decided to take on a seasonal job working at a Halloween festival in the city, hoping it would get my mind off of my relationship.
That job turned out to be one of the best times I could recall from my teen years. I was just a games attendant, but the people there were so much fun to work with. I found myself genuinely smiling while I was there. Especially when I was matched up to work with Ryder. He was an odd duck, that’s for sure; but his eccentric nature and devilish grin had piqued my curiosity. I looked forward to working with him every weekend, and before I knew it, I was hooked.

It was an unfortunate situation; every time Seth spoke to me, I found myself rolling my eyes and wishing for silence. The dynamic when I was working with Ryder was so drastically different that I found myself wanting to be around him as much as I could. Despite these feelings, I kept my distance. I had started staying at my parents’ again from time to time just to get some decent sleep.

By the time the final day of the festival had come and gone, I collected my things from the booth I was stationed at and recall feeling a sense of panic when my coworker/friend at the time decided she would run over and tell him I wanted to, how she so eloquently put it; “have his mouth-babies.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, but before I could grab her or flag her down, she’d already run up to him and was tugging his sleeve. I remember feeling hot head-to-toe, and feeling unsure of whether or not I should stay and wait for the rejection or simply leave then and there so I wouldn’t have to see. My legs seemed to have decided for me as they cemented to the ground. To my surprise, after a quick exchange of words, Ryder looked over to me, smiled brightly, looked back at my friend and did a little hop of joy before she ran back to join me.

Apparently, the romantic interest was mutual. I laughed, waved farewell and made my way back home.

I know, I know. “Why didn’t I go for him?”

Well, you forget; I was still in a relationship with Seth at the time. Testing the waters when I’m already taken has never been my style. However, once that night had ended, and I climbed into my bed, I knew I had some thinking to do. I would be speaking to Seth the next day, and quite possibly for the last time.
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To be continued…


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My Love Story (So Far…)- Chapter 6

Please be reminded; any names of people portrayed in this series are altered to protect their identities.

After I watched Cory’s car disappear for the final time, I didn’t just break; I self-destructed. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night and lost my inspiration in all things. It was around the first time I started to inflict physical harm on myself. I didn’t know if it was as a result from losing Cory, or if it was simply a combination of the depression I’d been trying to keep at bay. I no longer cared about the reason; it just gave me a different kind of pain to focus on.

I got involved with someone new half a year later, eager to feel loved by someone; anyone. I found a pretty-boy named Michael who seemed to be almost as deluded as I was. He won me over with good looks and pretty words, but my lack of confidence and numbness of self was very obvious. We were only together for a couple weeks, and it wasn’t long before he started taking advantage of it. I found myself hanging out with he and his friends all the time, to whom he would insist to grab my chest because I had to be ‘felt to be believed.’

I didn’t let myself care. I just shrugged and went along with it. I would do anything to be accepted, and my body no longer meant much to me. Whatever I have to do to keep the loneliness away. No one ever did anything but feel me up, though. Still, I can’t say I’m happy about letting anyone put their hands on me. He called me his ‘angel’ and that was good enough for me.

One day, he took me home with him and we watched a movie, and we even started cuddling. He and I kissed a little, but I wouldn’t even call it making-out. For a moment, I felt something more than slight attraction, but it was late and I my ride home was waiting outside. I said goodbye and went on my way.

He started to mess with me. Some days, he would talk to me, others he would blatantly avoid me. I soon found out it was because he was getting involved with someone else. I couldn’t feel sadness anymore; all I felt was a rising anger that only worsened every day he continued the games. I had started to overhear stories at school. Stories that said I had forced myself on him, that I had practically raped him, and that I was just some whore that would fuck pretty much anyone who told me their name. I wasn’t very popular to begin with, but this made me one of the most-hated people around at the time, and the friends I’d had left stopped wanting to be around me.

I found him waiting for his bus one day when everyone else had already gone home. Content I had him alone, I told him I never wanted to seem him again and that whatever we’d had was done. I knew breaking up with him wouldn’t make my situation any better, but I just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t come back to toy with my emotions and lack of social life again.

The next couple of months consisted of getting out of bed, going to school and wandering the city and graveyard until I could try to get home in time to intercept the automated call from the school saying I was absent. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. I received many a stern lecture, but every word went through one ear and out the other. I didn’t want to have to hear it anymore. I didn’t want to hear the uttering threats and hateful names, knowing I had no one on my side who even cared whether or not the stories were true.

If I was going to be the ‘most-hated’ girl in school, I figured I should simply make myself scarce. People were not shy about saying my attendance was a waste of time and space. After a few months had passed, I started returning to school on-and-off , and the hate started to grow less obvious. Rather than threats and hateful words, I’d simply suffer the occasional dirty look. I was completely numb. The only time I felt anything was when I was angry, or when I crumbled and started hunting for the razor blade again to steal away my focus.

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My Love Story (So Far…)- Chapter 5

Please be reminded; any names of people portrayed in this series are altered to protect their identities.

My break-up with Felix was hitting me harder than I thought it would. I had mistakenly allowed myself to get too attached, and to top it all off, I had essentially “broken-up” with the majority of my friends as a result. I decided to try jumping right into a different relationship, certain that my sadness would go away if I found someone else to focus my time and energy on; I created an account on an online dating site. Not the smartest idea since I was still technically underage.

I had a few responses, but only one really seemed to stand out. He was a 21 year-old named Cory. He seemed like a sweet, level-headed guy, but he lived an entire province away. That didn’t stop us from trying to meet, however. It wasn’t long before he made the decision to drive out to meet me. I counted down the days and agreed to meet him in the park one afternoon. When I arrived, he was waiting for me on the swing-set, and the first thing he said to me was, “saved you a seat; you get the squeaky one.”

I laughed as the tension faded and we began our first conversation we’d ever had face-to-face. He was exactly what I’d thought he’d be. He only spent a few days there with me, but it was the most calm and relaxed I’d been for a long time, so seeing him go was a particularly sad day, but we started texting each other constantly until he returned a couple months later. While he was here, we’d dubbed the French Vanilla Iced Cappuccinos our personal drinks; seriously, we couldn’t stop, it was unhealthy. Some couples have a song, some have a movie, we had a cold drink. That’s not weird, is it?

That was when we decided to get a little more serious. We spent the day in the townsite by the mountains, listening to music and exploring the shops before driving back to the city by sunset and going our separate ways at night. The next day, I’d decided to join him in his hotel. I don’t recall much about the experience, but before too long, it was time for him to return home again. Knowing he’d be back before too long, I was content with texting and calling until then.

Once again, he visited me a few more months down the road. The first couple of days were fantastic. We’d spent the second day at the movies, but for some reason, I found myself feeling a bit out of sorts. I was not as jovial as I usually was and I think he must have noticed; I knew I was simply wishing he didn’t have to leave the next day. We came home to my  house that night and cuddled up on the couch until the late-night. It was about two in the morning when a silence set over us. Before even a minute had passed, he spoke quietly. “I really like you…”
I smiled at the compliment, but he finished the sentence with, “but I don’t think I’m ever going to love you.”

It took me a moment to process the blunt remark and I moved away from him in hurt confusion. He explained that he enjoyed being with me, but just didn’t think I was ‘the one for him.’ While I understood, I can’t say the feeling was mutual. I held back my tears as much as I could and suggested he sleep in the guest bedroom while I slept in mine upstairs. He agreed and the moment he was out of the room, the tears came. I cried quietly, hoping no one would hear. I managed to achieve scattered sleep before morning came. He had wanted to be awake by a certain time, so as I usually did, I walked down the stairs to wake him.

He seemed to have forgotten our conversation when he had just woken up and started to pull me down to cuddle with him, but when I gently pushed away and stood for a moment in awkward silence, it seemed that he remembered what had happened. I met him upstairs, thinking he would want to be on his way, but he lingered between conversation and watching tv with me until sunset. The wait felt like torture, but a part of me was happy because I still got to spend a little more time with him there.

I helped him bring his bags out to his car. As we loaded the final piece into the back, we looked at each other and he took a step towards me so he was close as I dropped my chin to cover my face with my hair, hoping he wouldn’t see my eyes welling up with tears. He lifted my chin and apologized for hurting me. I said nothing, and simply nodded. He pulled me close and we shared one more long kiss before he drove away into the light of dusk. I watched until his car turned around the corner for the final time and returned to my home to finally let myself break.

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To be continued…


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