“Perhaps the most difficult choices to make are the ones that deny us what our heart wants most, because as it’s been said, without reason and without prudence, the heart wants what the heart wants, and more often than not, it will not be denied.”
tell me what to do.
he saw her red, tear-stained eyes drift into the room as the door gingerly closed behind her.
“tell me what to do.”
“what?”
“i’ve been waiting for you to make a move, but you’re not. and now i don’t know what to do.”
“i… i still don’t know…”
“neither do i! do i keep waiting? do i give up?”
“i don’t know.”
“well either figure it out or tell me what i should do.”
“i can’t do either.”
“then tell me what you want me to do.”
she took a step closer.
“do you still want me?”
“you know i do, but i don’t want to mess it up again.”
“so you don’t think it’s worth trying?”
“i don’t want to be selfish.”
“do it. be selfish. show me you want me. tell me what you want me to do.”
“i can’t mess it up for you again.”
she took another step closer and knelt down beside his desk chair.
“what are you—”
“james. tell me what to do.”
her scent was intoxicating. something soft, yet bright and fresh. feminine yet defiant.
“i can’t—”
and with that, she reached to cup his jawbone and pulled his lips within centimeters of her own.
“then tell me what you want—” the distance was imperceivable now, “me to do.” and she kissed him. for the first time in weeks. as if it were the first time in this life.
i had plans for us.
you’ve never seen the city before. we were going to go ice skating at bryant park and shiver all over except for our fingers and lips, because we’d sip hot chocolate afterward. we’d see the rockefeller christmas tree and make fun of how unexciting it was. we’d cuddle in the commonroom, lit only by the blue string of christmas lights and revel in silence at how pretty they were. we’d promise eachother we weren’t going to buy gifts and break those promises in small but meaningful ways. we’d make gingerbread men and see who could decorate them more lewdly. we’d kiss outside on new years where nobody else could find us.
but it’s ended before it’s even begun. and though i know what you did was unforgiveable and that i would never ever want to be with you again, a little part of me wishes we were still together and the plans didn’t fall through.
She won’t call you, you have to call her. She won’t come talk to you, you should go talk to her. She’s not going to let you act stupid and pretend she likes it. You should just be around her. When you’re with a group of friends, she isn’t going to run into your arms no matter how much she wants to. You need to come up behind her and wrap your arms around her, and let her friends get jealous. She loves you more than you can imagine, no matter how much she doesn’t show it. But you boy, you need to show her how much you love her. So she isn’t afraid to show it back.
“A ship in harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for.”
John A. Shedd
you won’t let me get over you.
it’s not like it’s your fault. it’s not like you know what you do to me every time your hand finds its way to my waist, or every time you give me one of your extra-strength hugs, or every time your texts light up my screen with “LOVER” as the caller-ID because you programmed it to do that.
and i know you don’t mean anything by it. i know you’re in love with her and her petite grace and her exotic beauty. i threw in the towel before you even showed me her picture. before i saw how genuine her smile was. before i saw how perfectly toned she was. i knew i had no chance because i could see she was always on your mind. maybe almost as often as you’re on mine. probably not, though.
but every time you touch me, look at me, call me, text me, smile at me, i can’t help but hope with all my heart that there’s a reason for it. that you’re keeping my heart wrapped around your finger with purpose. and i hope with all my reason that i can cut myself loose, because i know you’re hers, and i don’t want to want you anymore. it hurts.
you won’t let me get over you, because you have no idea how i feel. remember that night i came over to bring you some chocolates because you thought i was picking other friends over you? remember how i lied on your chest, in your bed, as your arm wrapped around my waist until 4:30 in the morning? and we talked about us, and her, and joked that if i slept over, rumors might start, but we’d never have to worry about them being true, because you had her, and i wasn’t attracted to you. remember how i “mm-hmm”ed to every part until the end? and then i went silent, and you asked me, “everything i just said is true, isn’t it?” and for the longest millisecond, i considered telling you about the electric current that runs through my veins and shocks my heart every time you’re close by, but instead, i just sighed, “yeah, sure.”
you won’t let me get over you, and i’m not strong enough to tear myself away.
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