Maybe one day...

Lorenzo 3

Lorenzo had seen in Anna, something, he didn't even understand what.

It was a feeling that had turned him on after years of a relationship with a girl he no longer loved.

He had fallen in love, he thought, with her head.

She was beautiful Anna, there was no denying it.

But what had really sparked something in him was how she spoke, the cheeky attitude and depth with which she discussed certain things, and how she managed to make fun of herself.

He could see that she had had to grow up too fast, that something was wrong with her, that she was broken, had been broken by someone.

Someone had hurt her so badly that she now looked like a cold rock.

But Lorenzo had not realised he wanted her until that afternoon, alone in the doctors' office, she had sat on the desk next to him and they had chatted about life.

There, he had realised that something was wrong.

That he wanted her, wanted to smell her perfume, wanted to caress her face, wanted to know who she was under that mask she wore.

They had seen each other, he had kissed her then decided to leave his girlfriend.

He couldn't do that to her, to either of them.

He had to let her go, and see what Anna had to offer.

But she seemed distant, as if she didn't really want him.

Then Lorenzo had met Marianna, a new resident in his department, and perhaps he had told himself that Anna was too complicated.

He liked her, sure, he desired her, he was intoxicated by her: but it was not as easy as with Marianne. No trauma, no monster to deal with her.

Just a normal girl.

Anna had once told him: 'who likes simple people?

Lorenzo evidently did.

It seemed to him that everything was simpler that way.

Anna, he needed reassurance, he needed a push every now and then and Lorenzo just wanted to be free, quiet, he didn't want to make commitments.

For his sake, he had rejected her, after months of random dating. So he had repeated.

He had done it for her.

The thing that kept nagging at him, though, was that maybe he had simply been scared of that girl, of what she had made him feel and how she had made him feel like an idiot. At how difficult the world really was, a world of shit, and Lorenzo a glimpse into reality he didn't want.

He wanted to stay in his bubble, where he could fuck girls without really dealing with the shit of life.

He had left her because she was complicated, there were things about her he did not like.

Would they really stop him, he wondered?

No, but the fact that she was difficult had stopped him.

It was easier to let her go.

He had seen her again, she was thin, very thin. Full of cuts.

It had hurt him immensely to think that in part, it was also his fault.

That he had contributed to hurting her like that.

He wondered the point, if perhaps he had been wrong to want her.

How things would have turned out if he had never met her.

He didn't want to see her, refused any kind of contact, had written back to see him but Lorenzo knew that if he saw her again he would have wanted her as much as he had the first time. Because those eyes, that face, that attraction would always be there.

He would not have been able to resist.

It was better that way, the less they saw each other the better.

He could not do that to her, desire her but at the same time reject her.

Every now and then he would get a message from her, he liked that she still wanted him. He sought him out, now and then he hated that she wouldn't let him be, wouldn't really let him move on.

But then he'd say, 'the one not moving on is her, you've moved on, with others...' he didn't even know how many guys he'd slept with in the last while.

Did she miss him? From time to time, yes.

But it had only been a fling, no big deal, a good time, he didn't want anything serious from her, or did he?

He did not linger too long to think, he left her alone. In fact it almost annoyed him that she still contacted him.

"Doesn't she understand that you don't want her?"

was becoming tiresome.

Lorenzo had made his decision: he did not want her, the end.

Yet when she had written to him that she was dating a boy something had cracked inside him.

Something had broken and he had realised that maybe she had really moved on.

And him?

Yes, he told himself, he chuckled, he had never wanted her, he repeated to himself.

Well, he was happy for her that she had finally found someone else.

But maybe he wanted that other to be him?

"Make up your mind," she would have said in annoyance.

Anna, a girl who was a tornado, would come into your life and leave a mess behind, question everything and make you stunned.

Would he ever meet her again?

Would he ever find another willing to love him as much as she did?