broken walls / calum hood

you're crying?

8. you're crying?

I'm nervous. Probably because I haven't been this intimate with anyone for eight months.

Are we really about to do this? Do I even remember how to? There are beads of sweat forming at my forehead. It's all so stressful. I've definitely built this up way too much.

What if she'll laugh at me.

"You're crying?" she mumbles.

She must have felt the wetness on her face as the tear rolled down my cheek. I'm not quite sure why I'm crying. Maybe it's because I've missed her so much. She dries the tear with her thumb, and gives me a smile. I look down, and then up at her.

I feel so stupid. I'm an adult, for fuck's sake. I shouldn't be crying about having sex with a woman. What is wrong with me?

I feel the need to defend myself. "It's been a long time, okay?"

"A long time since what?"

"Since I slept with anyone."

"It has? How long?"

"Eight months."

"What, really? Eight?" she moves away, and for a moment I'm convinced she's about to end whatever we have going on. "That surprises me," she says.

"Why?"

Her finger moves across my collarbone, slowly. "I wouldn't have thought you'd have problems getting girls."

I feel a slight shiver forming under her touch. "It's not that I can't pull. I could easily take a girl home if I tried," I argue.

"Sure," she agrees. "So, you're choosing not to? Or have you not found anyone you fancy taking home?"

"Not since I saw you at that festival." I can't help but smile at the memory. I didn't expect to see her there, neon wristbands around her arms and a pink tint upon her shiny face. She was sweaty and sunburnt like me, but prettier than ever.

Her melodic voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"You told me you'd never let me go again. But then you did," she says, frowning.

"I've already told you," I sigh, "I thought you changed your mind."

She pulls a hand though her hair. " I didn't. I thought you got with someone else."

"Well, I didn't."

"So the girl eight months ago," Hayley says, changing the subject, "what happened with her?"

"It ended on bad terms."

"Bad terms?"

"It was just a casual thing. Then she, uh. . ." I say, taking a breath. "She found someone she actually wanted to be with."

"That's harsh."

"What about you? Seeing anyone?"

"No."

"So you're single? Just sleeping around? Or do you have a friend to suck your neck every now and again?"

"I'm single."

I grit my teeth. It sounds like a lie. "Sure."

"I don't."

"Who gave you that hickey on your neck, then? A ghost?" I point at my own neck, showing where the faded mark had been on her neck, near her collarbone.

"You did, dickhead."

"Me?"

"You don't even remember? This is your spot, you've said it yourself."

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