Healing Heart

Healing Heart

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    LECTURES 17
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    Chapitres 4
WpMetadataReadEn cours d'écriture15 m
WpMetadataNoticeDernière publication jeu., août 22, 2019
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Fiction
Romance
I was never one to embody the clichés around dating, mostly because before Heart I could never understand them. How someone could read their partner's face like a book, and never get tired of it. How they could forgo the imagination of finding another partner, of another life, of eloping with a beautiful, dark-eyed foreigner on a shimmering vacation. I get it now. She looks stunning, if a little tired. I stare a little too long at her lips, remembering the name of her lip shade: "Too close for comfort." She bought it on a whim during a weekend trip with one of our mutual friends, Sadie. Thought it would pair well with her dress for one of our dance club's ballroom nights. And, as I distinctly remember, it's the only shade that I haven't kissed her in. Before I know what's happening, tears are rushing down her face. "Cameron, you're not allowed to look at me like that." Her voice is deceptively steady, but quiet, despairing. The latter notes I picked up hesitantly, because the onset of her velvet speech has stopped me in my tracks. We're not dating anymore. She picks up where she left off: "I'm here because we never talked about what happened."
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#44
make-up
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You have no idea how many times I found myself waiting for Riley to come over. But he never did. And I don't know why, but I found myself staring out my window... hoping he'll look out his window and smile at me like he always does... use to anyway. Then again; I missed his lips too. The lips I tasted way too much on Friday. The lips I'm craving to have on me. But they aren't even mine to have. And I feel like my world has slanted and like it's no where near me. Like I have to run an extra mile to make up for every step I should of took; for every step I should be taking. I can't help but wonder why he hasn't come by and apologize. Is he home? Is he with Marie? Does she know? Should I be scared or something? Is he mad at me? Or himself? I stood up and walked up to my full-length mirror that's attached to my closet door. I looked at my naked body. I passed my right hand over my belly. Flat. I raised my hand over my right breast. But I didn't touch it. Sigh. I turned to my side and looked at thigh and my butt. My butt sticks out a bit more than my thigh. As always. Nothing had changed. Just my feelings. My feelings about everything in my life. Suddenly, I felt anger.

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