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Hello my lovely readers! Please note, this a complete and utter departure from my normal writing and this also has some drunkenness in it and mentions sex. (Just in case that bothers some). That said, I hope you enjoy!
"I'm just so hurt," you say to your best friend, Sasha. "We had sex and then he disappeared. He made plans and then he stood me up three times. THREE times!" you emphasize.
Sasha hugs you close to him. "I know it hurts sweetie. He's a jackass for doing what he did."
"You know I don't give my body to just anyone."
"I know. I'm sorry he didn't realize the gift you were giving him."
"I heard through a mutual friend that he's got a girlfriend now. How the hell is that fair? He couldn't even tell me what I did wrong, if I did anything wrong! He wouldn't talk to me!" you sob.
Sasha holds you close, squeezing you. "I know, sweetie, I know," he consoles you, as you cry.
You were not a pretty crier. You were a very messy crier. Sasha had been your best friend since you were five and he was nine. You two had met at a playground. You were being bugged by some older kids because of your hair colour (it was very unique) and Sasha had stepped in and put a stop to it. He had refused to leave your side since that day. He had made such a fuss, that your moms had been forced to exchange numbers and schedule more playdates. Sasha and you had been through everything together: first loves, first break ups, first car, first dates, first jobs. You two got along so well that when it came time to move out it was only natural you two would be roommates.
Which was why you were crying messily on the front of his shirt in the middle of the night. "I just hate this, I can't figure out what I am doing wrong. I'm honest and very open, but I never get the same in return. Why can't guys communicate?"
Sasha chuckles softly into your hair. "It's not funny!" you scold him.
He moves you off his chest and frames your face with his hands. "No, it's not funny, but sweetie, you have to understand, most guys don't communicate well at all."
"You do," you say, your mouth set in a mulish line.
He sighs and kisses your forehead, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. "Yes, but only because you've bullied me into it."
The side of your mouth quirks up into half smile. "No one can bully you into anything."
He smiles at you, holding eye contact. He hugs you close to him. "What do you say we watch movies and get totally drunk and trash talk him? Totally exorcise him out of your mind."
