I grabbed her hand tighter, staring up at the ceiling of our hotel room as we laid on the bed. The bed was merely a torn up mattress, our beer bottles and other remains littering the carpeted floor. But right now, this was perfect. I felt perfect.
I turned my head to look at the love of my life. My amazing Val. Her eyes were heavy as she stared up, I watched her for awhile before finally saying it. "Do you know that I'm in love with you?"
Briefly I felt her fingers try to escape my grip. "I know that you're drunk, or high...or both."
I frowned and sat up. "No, Val. I mean it. I mean it." Anger bubbled inside me as I watched her unfazed expression. "Look at me"
She sighed and ran a hand through her disheveled hair, sitting up and finally looking at me. I repeated myself. "I am in love with you Val."
She pressed her lips together. "Look at us Blake. Look at this room. This isn't love, this isn't anything. We're just two people here, two people trying to give our pathetic lives a little more meaning when there clearly isn't any."
I frowned. "I don't think my life is pathetic. And I don't think yours is either."
I watched her agitation grow. "You wanna know what I like about you?"
I flopped face down on the bed, head in my arms. "At this point I'm not so sure," I mumbled.
Her hand was in my hair. "The thing is, you and I...we aren't looking for anything more. We're just here. Right now we're here and that's it, and that's okay."
"What if I want more?" I turned my head and looked at her, wondering if I was causing the bags under her brown eyes.
"What if I don't?"
I couldn't hold it against her. "Then okay."
We fell silent for awhile, the only sound was the blades of the ceiling fan rumbling. I was nearly asleep when I heard her voice again. She sounded tired too, and pained.
"Blake?"
"Yeah?"
She paused. "I don't like me. I don't like who I am."
I pushed myself up and looked at her, for a moment she looked as sober and sad as I felt.
She pressed on with urgency. "I feel like my life is slipping through my hands and its all my fault. I haven't done anything I'm proud of. I waste my weekends on benders with you. What is this? Is this living?"
"Hey," I breathed out. "You have plenty of time to do more with your life if that's what you want....Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I want." She started gathering up her hair and threw it into a bun. I watched as her hair just fell into place, a few loose strands framing her face. This was real, I felt it. Us here, being no one but ourselves. Why couldn't she see that with me?
"Then why are you here, Val? Because I know why I am."
She took in a shaky breath, laying stomach down on the bed like I was again, and we faced each other "I like pretending with you."
I wanted to cry. "What are we pretending? This is real to me. This is the most real thing I've felt in months. Being right here with you."
"We pretend that we're okay. Like we aren't broken or hurt. You and I, we're good at that. We pretend like this works, that we would actually work."
I muffled a groan into a nearby pillow. "I can't take anymore of this."
I awaited her response. I lifted my head up to look at her. Her eyes were closed.
