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she's looking at him from across the room, her arms crossed loosely over her stomach as he stares down at his macbook, refusing to away from the screen even though he can feel her eyes on him, feel her intense gaze.
"come to bed," her voice is soft, pleading, almost. david bites down on his tongue, glances up at the girl. she's frowning, her eyebrows creased together. he shakes his head and clears his throat, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. "david."
"i'm editing. i'll--" he pauses, bites down on his tongue again. "i'll be done in a bit, okay? go ahead without me." she gives him a look, shakes her head and frowns, turning away. he listens to her footsteps descend down the hall, his eyes already settled on the screen of his macbook once more.
the fireplace in his livingroom crackles softly in the background, the sound almost lost to david's ears due to the volume of the vlog he's listening to, trying to piece all the clips together. he's nearly finished, although he can't find it within himself to hurry up and head to bed.
he stretches out his legs, eyes falling to his lap. he's wearing the jeans that she likes, the girl in his bed. the ones that she always smiles when she sees him in, wanders up to kiss him on the cheek. "love those jeans," she always tells him, every single time she sees him wearing them. he's never told her before where he got those jeans--from the girl that takes up every single thought in his brain.
david reaches onto the coffee table, grabs the corona he'd set on a coaster earlier. it's half empty and it doesn't take him long to finish off the rest, his mouth still dry. he's been thinking about her a lot lately, about the brown haired, brown eyed girl he'd spent two years with. he misses her. misses the way her hair smells, misses the way her skin felt against his. he can't ever admit to that, though, especially not when his girlfriend is waiting for him down the hall.
he looks back down at his macbook, cuts out a bit that he found particularly unfunny. it's been a year since they'd been together, properly happy. he tries to remember the last time they kissed--he can't. he figures it was probably a goodbye kiss, probably in the morning when he was leaving to film and she was eating breakfast. he wonders if she tasted like coffee the last time they kissed, or if she tasted like the blueberry pancakes she'd always make for breakfast.
he never thought he'd have to try to remember their last kiss. he just always thought they'd be together forever, that he'd never have worry about a last kiss. they were meant to be together, always. he closes his macbook, stretches out his legs and arms and sets down the empty beer bottle.
for months after their breakup he'd found little memories of her around his house. a few of her sweaters hidden away in the back of his closet, a pair of her underwear--the lacy black pair he'd always liked--under his bed, a carton of expired almond milk hidden in the back of his fridge. he closes his eyes, rolls his head back trying to relieve a cramp in his neck. "fuck," david mutters, making his way down the hallway towards his bedroom.
the lights are off and he can see the silhouette of her figure in his bed, blanket covering her body. it's dark. if he squints a little and imagines her hair as a shade or two darker, he can almost--for a second, if only--pretend that it's her in his bed. not his girlfriend, but the girl that came before. he swallows, shakes his head. she doesn't deserve this. she's the perfect girlfriend. sweet, soft, kind. not too needy, but affectionate.
david slips out of his pants, tosses the pair of jeans into the laundry bin. he opens his dresser, grabs a pair of sweatpants and tugs them up his legs. he makes his way towards the bed, wincing as the mattress dips under his weight. he lays down, inching under the covers as she shifts closer to him, thin arms wrapping around his waist.
he doesn't want to touch her, not when he can't get thoughts of the girl he's so in love with out of his head. he just wants to sleep.
he called her a few days ago. his girlfriend had been out at a party. she'd begged david to come, said that he never comes out anymore except when he needs to film. she was right, but he'd declined anyway, leaving him alone in his house with silence and too much time on his hands. and so he called her. he listened to the line ring once, twice, three times. he didn't expect her to answer, but she did. her voice was just as he'd remembered it. she'd said his name upon picking up, a questioning tone on her voice. he missed the way she'd say his name--missed everything about her, really.
he shouldn't have called. they shouldn't speak, not when he's supposed to have moved on, not when she's in paris for fashion week. but he did. they spoke for hours, until david's front door swung open and he hastily hung up. they haven't spoken since then. he knows they won't ever speak again--not on purpose. what good would that do them, anyway?
no, he shouldn't have called. he shouldn't be thinking about her at all. the girl in his bed loves him. and he cares about her, he really does. he loves her. but he also loves the girl that came before her--the girl that he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with. is it possible to love two people at once? david thinks so. is it fair? probably definitely not.
