I don't regret what I do. I do what I want and that's the way it is, the way it always has been. That's why when I was 14 and giving Jeff Reynolds a blow job, I was having fun.
*6 years ago*
Jeff tries to kiss me before I leave but I turn my face and he gets cheek.
"Call me?" He asks.
"Sure." I lie. Yeah, right. If I call him, this happens again, and then before I know it I'll be knocked up with our 3rd child and he'll be fat and working at K-Mart. I slam the door on my way out.
XXXXXXXXXX
I don't let people in. In my experience when you love people, they leave. So if I don't love them, they don't leave. Dylan was my one exception. He's my Dyl-Pickle and I love him to death. When my mom and I fight (which is constantly, that cheating bitch) he's the one I rant to. When shark week arrives, he's the one I call to go get me Advil and tampons and chocolate. When I'm just missing my deceased relatives/friends/dad, the shoulder I cry on belongs to Dyl.
I take after my dad. When something gets scary or complicated, I run. Simple as that. That's why, all these years later, I ran.
XXXXXXXXX
Dylan and I are sleeping at my house that night.
I climb into bed and he asks "So what's new on the 'not romance' front?" He jokes.
"Oh, yeah, I blew Jeff Reynolds today." I say nonchalantly.
"Jeez, Car-bear. Slow down. Just promise me if you have sex, you'll be safe." He scolds. I promise him and snuggle into him, inhaling the scent I have come to think of as safe.
YOU ARE READING
When It All Comes Crashing Down
Romance"They say when you're dying, your whole life flashes before your eyes. But for me, it was a few good memories, but also my biggest regrets. And as the plane crashes down I can only think of one thing, him and how much I fucked up. Before I get into...
