Waking up next to a beautiful girl is one of the best feelings in the world - and the worst.
A lazy Sunday morning. The clock reads 11:23 AM but time feels irrelevant. I am lost.
"It was her eyes," I tell myself. "Those goddamn beautiful eyes." The night is a blur, but I remember her eyes. I turn to face her, wondering if my memory is accurate. She is still asleep, lids closed on those raging blue fireballs. Her chest rises and falls slowly; she is cardiac trained. Even in sleep she is very pretty. A bit young, though.
Somewhere to my right, my phone vibrates. I pick it up to end the noise. "New message from 786-" I don't bother reading the rest of the number, I know who it is.
"Heyy, I miss you!"
My heart sinks. The double lettered "hey", her signature move. It used to bother me so much she made it a permanent practice. 1100 miles away, she is missing me. Do I miss her? Should I reply? Can I reply? Am I willing to send her a message whilst lying next to another girl? Why am I still lying next to this bitch? I start to get up. The movement makes the mattress creak. She wakes. I am sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at this message. The more I read it the worse I feel. Yet when she puts her arms around me and asks what I'm doing, I don't push her away. I tell her it was an alarm. I desperately try to avoid eye contact. I tell her I'm going to smoke a cigarette. She says she'll be waiting. My heart, now well below my waist, sinks a bit further.
Harrisburg is a nice place. I am atop a mountain, looking out over 4 counties, or so I was told. The street in front of the house is deserted; the world is still recovering from the Fourth of July. Last night we could see the fireworks from here. Like a clearing fog, the night starts to come back to me. I had come out here to get some air and get away from everyone's ever watchful eyes, silently judging me as I sat alone in front of the television. She had followed me out. We watched the fireworks together.
I tell myself it's okay, that I needed this after almost 2 months. But it's not okay. I know this, even as I turn to go back inside.
I am a horrible, horrible person.