taste | e.d

nineteen

Ethan

I've been twisting around in my bed for hours, my head pounding, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep.

Who are you kidding?

I hear the TV on in the living room, indicating that Shannon is still awake. When I turn on my phone to check the time, the numbers read 1:16.

What the hell is she doing up right now?

I shake my head and flop back down on the pillows behind me.

Kendall Rose was here a week ago.

I felt her and heard her and tasted and smelled her. All my five senses were for her. She was mine.

That was the first moment I knew I had her.

And I felt so relieved.

All of our other moments together were filled with uncertainty and doubt. But I was certain I had never felt more sure about anything when I was with her that night.

She lost her purity to me.

For once I didn't hate it. I didn't regret touching her in fear that she'd reject me or that I'd chase her away. I didn't think I wasn't worthy enough for her to love me. I felt strong again.

As cliché as it fucking sounds, I felt complete.

But then I ruined it.

And I warned her. I told her I mess things up. I told her the first day I met her.

She should've listened.

•••

Some time later, I stumble forward onto my bed, the world spinning and my hands gripping the blanket tightly.

My headache is gone. So it's okay, right? Everything is okay.

Nothing is okay without Kendall Rose.

I pick up my phone and go through my contact list full of names of people that are now strangers to me, my vision blurry and my screen too bright, until I find her contact name. I put a dumb rose with a little heart next to it, like a middle schooler would.

My eyes sting and it takes me a second to realize I'm crying again, and I want to punch myself for being so weak, but it's because I love her and I miss her and she's not with me and I need her.

I miss the soft curtain of brown hair falling over her shoulders. I miss the hazel-brown color of her eyes, and the way they warmed me up every time she looked at me. I miss her hands that would touch me carefully, and each time she did I knew her caress meant something, because I always felt a spark. When you're broken inside, you don't want to touch people in fear of breaking them. That's what she did, but she knew I had fallen apart a long time ago and even then she still feared. But she'd still put her hand on me, and her lips. She managed to transform that fear into love.

She was so genuine and strong, and I wanted to keep her with me so she could show me how she did it. She lost her entire family and I lost my brother, but she made it through. She left it all behind. But I'm still living in the nightmare of my reality.