Hiraeth

6.

I know it's wrong but I need the distraction. Someone else haunts my mind. Someone who isn't mine and therefore shouldn't be one to occupy my thoughts. Yet I can't remove him from my mind on my own which is why I'm using Dylan to do the job. Not that he minds, although I haven't told him why I'm here. I guess he just thinks I need of a fuck, but it isn't like that, and I'd be lying if I said I'm enjoying this. Yet as I close my eyes, I'm capable of picturing someone else, although he is exactly the one I'm trying to forget. He won't leave my mind, yet I'm not sure how to feel, imagining Harry doing not so pleasant things to my body. But I asked for this. I sought Dylan out myself for this so I don't have anyone but myself to blame for the unpleasantness. But I wanted Harry to disappear — to leave my mind alone. But the more I try to push him away the more I pull him in, because I want him to touch me and I want him to make love to me and not fuck me like there's no tomorrow.

My breathing grows more rapid, and I bite the inside of my cheek, not wanting my wincing to show, but I can't say I'm not thrilled when Dylan pulls out of me. And I'm happy that he left my neck alone. I don't know how I'd have explained that to Cheryl later. But as I look down, I see the bruises on my thighs. I don't know if this is what sex is supposed to be like, but I have little experience with other guys. No one else has ever taken the time to make me orgasm. I've heard that many women don't orgasm until their thirties. They must clearly be doing a shitty job at touching themselves right. At least, Dylan makes me come which I've never tried with any other guy before. Although it doesn't happen all the time, I believe that's normal. However, sometimes it feels like the only person on his mind is himself and how he can get off the fastest way possible. But it feels nice being desired, and I like the physical contact, even if it isn't always the most pleasant kind of contact.

Besides people like pain, right?

I look at myself in the mirror as I apply a burgundy lipstick and pull my hair behind my ear.

"You look gorgeous, babe," Cheryl compliments, and I smile over at her. I love how she always gives people compliments, although I'm always horrible at receiving them, and I never know how to respond.

You're sweet," I try, wanting to get better at giving compliments.

"I mean it, you'll have all the guys swooning tonight," she says, and my mind can't help but think of Harry.

He's the only guy I want to be swooning over me.

"How is it living with someone your age? You haven't told me much about him," she asks as if reading my mind.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, what's he like? You two getting it on?"

I chuckle, "if by getting it on, you mean sex. Then no, Harry and I aren't sleeping together. But we get along great, he's really nice."

"Nice?" She raises her eyebrows at me, and I feel my cheeks turning a shade of red.

"What?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

"You're blushing. I don't think nice cuts it with him. You're infatuated with him?"

"No," I shake my head a little too vigorously, and she eyes me sceptically.

"I don't believe you. Besides, you and Dylan are horrible. You should be with someone who likes you for you."

I take a sip of my wine and look at her with a huff. "It's not like Harry likes me like that. We're just friends, and before you say anything, he has a girlfriend."

"So what if he hadn't, you say there could be something between you?"

I smile, "I didn't say that."