||Eleven||
"You cut your hair," he says, reaching out to tug a strand of my hair.
I pull back so my hair slides out of his grip, and I smile but it's forced. "I did. It's been short for a while actually."
Justin smiles and looks down at his drink, "How long has it been?"
"Since I've cut my hair?"
He shakes his head, "No. Since we've last seen each other."
We've been talking for the last half hour. At first, our conversation was friendly. We spoke on the cautious side, only bringing up things that we both knew wouldn't lead us down a path that neither one of us wanted to go down. Now, however, after a few drinks in his system, it seemed Justin did.
"Five years."
He looks up, his dark eyes connecting with mine. "Time flies by when you're trying to not think about the past, huh?"
His words should hurt. Sting. But oddly they don't. Maybe it's the alcohol circulating in my system? "I wouldn't know. I didn't spend the last five years trying to forget my past. I spent it trying to move on."
YOU ARE READING
Rooftops
General FictionThey fell in love when they were young, in a city that never felt like home, at a time in their lives when they both knew nothing could be serious. But five years later, they met again, this time not on the side of the road, but on a rooftop.
