Making up, or making out? You confuse me. I confuse me.
The door rings, and I slip downstairs, quietly excusing myself as my cousin runs his shoulder into my rub. Horrible cretin, I mumble. He just laughs and tries tripping me on my way to the door.
Ring, ring. Alright already.
I open the door to see, guess who?
"I..."
I sigh. Stop talking, I want to say. Just shut up.
"I'm sorry. No, I mean, I'm not sorry about anything I said. But I'm sorry you can't trust me."
Shut up, I say. He looks shocked. Take your shoes off and meet me in my room.
He only nods.
(Up in my room.)
He's standing nervously at the door, like he's afraid to walk in- even though he's been in here plenty of times. What are you standing there for?
He looks up and blushes. Him, blushing. Makes me blush, and I look away slightly angry- at myself, you see. For inviting him in.
"Okay." he finally says, taking a deep breath before actually stepping into the room. As if it was going to hurt him.
Close the door...
He does. Fumbling with the buttons on his blue jean jacket.
"Look, I'm sorry."
I was on my feet before I knew it, and god help me, I was kissing him. I'm such an idiot, I think. Only slightly muffled sounds are heard. 'Mmf,' to be precise. I don't know if it's me or him that made that sound, but it doesn't really matter.
My throat feels raw, and I let him go.
"Matt." His voice sounded so...so...small, I guess. Like a scared kids.
Don't talk. Please, just don't talk right now.
He nods again, and I curl up on my bed wanting to go back and erase what I just did.
My conclusion on this matter of him and I, is I am simply screwed. The more he says he likes me, the more I want to be able to hate him. And the more he acts pathetic, or lonely, or sad- even angry- I want him.
But not one bit of me likes him like he says he likes me.
He leaves after handing me a small box wrapped in brown paper. It's sitting on my desk, and I don't know if I want to open it or not.
Does any of this make me a bad person? I wonder.
|
