Monday, October 17, 2016

I Think I'm Done

Freshly showered, I grabbed some sweats and threw them on to run out the door. He was waiting in the driveway. I didn't care about my hair. I didn't care about wearing any makeup. I may have sprayed some Love Spell on before I walked out though, at least smelling attractive was something I could try to pull off in those five minutes. 

I hadn't heard from him in a few weeks. Instead, he just decided to call and tell me he was on his way to pick me up. And I've been weak. I haven't argued or challenged him, instead I've just been doing what he wants, when he wants it, and that's not me. It's also not what I deserve. But I was giving him this chance. 

 "Get in," he shouted at me through the window. 

 I hopped in the passenger seat. I slammed the door. And I turned to look at him.  

"What," I asked. 

He creeped closer, but I scooted away. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, and pulled me closer. Then he slid his hand to the back of my neck, a spot it frequented. 

 "Stop being stubborn," he said.

I rolled my eyes, and he kissed me. This time it wasn't a soft start or a question. His mouth moved to my neck, and all I could think about was how the stubble on his chin tickled or gave me chills when he hit the right spot. I found the strength to push him away though. 

"You're one to talk. I haven't heard from you, and I have no idea why," I nearly yelled. 

Sitting up straighter in his seat, he smoothed out his hair, "It's hard to explain." 

I asked, "Do you want to try?"

He didn't answer me right away. He put on his seatbelt and started driving.

I sat with my arms crossed for a while until I realized where we were heading. That same church parking lot he broke down a bit with me before; we pulled into it and stopped. 

He broke the silence, "We were talking about furthering things." 

"Yes, so you decided to ignore me," I asked. 

He didn't answer me though, he just looked at me. He ran his hands through his hair, and stared out the windshield.

"You were the one that initiated all of that though," I said confused.

He smirked and let out a sarcastic laugh, "No, that wasn't how it went at all." 

"Oh really, because it sure seemed that way to me," I replied.

He was stern, "Grace, don't for one second play it off like you weren't going towards the same thing I was." 

I sat there a bit stunned and feeling like I was living in some form of the twilight zone. This was the person that flipped all of my preconceived notions and put effort into getting to know me. He put effort into showing me that age didn't have to matter. He put effort into proving me wrong about small, worrisome doubts that kept me from opening up. Of course I was going towards the same thing he was. But that was my point, he was going towards them too.

I turned to him, "I'm confused. You either want me around or not. You either want to talk to me or not. But popping in and out without rhyme or reason isn't going to work for me." 

And then he started driving again, and it was silent, and it was uncomfortable, and I was frustrated and hopelessly torn. What happened to the mature man I was talking to? What happened to the one who made me laugh and gave me an excited feeling I couldn't pinpoint ever feeling before? 

My arms were crossed, and my eyes were closed once we pulled back into my driveway. He was still silent. 

"Are you going to say anything to me at all," I asked.

Silence. He was present, but he wasn't present anymore. There was nothing. The entire situation was nonsensical. In that hour this two-way street became a complete waste of time. The chemistry between two strangers, the right amount that could really ignite a spark was minimized to nothing. 

But then he took off his seatbelt and let up the console. He pulled me over to him by tugging at my thigh and started kissing me again. I denied him at first, that's what I'm best at. I gave in though. I gave in completely. 

Then the silence started creeping in to my mind. Why wasn't I worth an answer or a conversation? I stopped him. No matter how good his hands around my waist felt. No matter how good his fingers tracing my spine felt. No matter how much more I wanted from him when he pulled at the drawstring of those awful Gap sweatpants I decided to slip into before I flew out the front door, I couldn't continue this with a silent person. 

I stopped him. 

"I think I'm done," I said.

He just looked at me.

So I gathered my things and I got out of the car. I silently hope he would follow me. I would have let him in, and gave him the night. But he didn't. Instead, he waited until I got inside and shut the door. And then he left.
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