I (hypothetically) do

It makes sense for you to be my first post.
You were the first person to ever break my heart.

My crush for you developed in elementary school. I remember the butterflies that would flood my stomach when I would hear you were coming over

You came over a lot, to hang out with my brother

As we grew older, I made embarrassing attempts at winning your approval or catching your eye

I would casually throw together delicious dishes when I knew you’d be over

I would talk, loudly, about other boys in a harsh attempt to build some sort of jealousy

I wore push up bras that were too big on me at the time, clothes that were too tight

Looking back, I don’t know where those ideas flooded my head. Movies were weird at the time...

Then it happened. High school.

We weren’t each other’s firsts, but you were my first orgasm. And I was in love.

My raging teenage hormones could hardly bare to be in the same room with you without wanting to tear off your old band tee shirt of some band I never heard of and shove my tongue down your throat.

We would play it cool as you came over and hung out like normal

Until you would sneak into my room in the dark of the night.

I can still see your silhouette as my anticipation builds to feel your touch. We would whisper, and thrust, and whisper, and cum.

The energy between us, I feel, has always been there. I felt that way since I have met you and I continue to.

But now you may be wondering, when did I break your heart?

I have moved on, I have lived. I have even, at times, forgotten.

But as I make my road trip back to my home after my grandfather’s funeral, it all came back to me.

And it happened. High School.

My best friend isn’t entirely innocent, but who is in high school?

I remember one night, much like our previous, you snuck into my room and we carried on as usual.

We were always a bit of a secret, you being my brothers best friend, but my best friend knew I liked you and knew some of our history.

But this time you fell quite after. You reiterated it should be a secret, but I never imagined why you would tell me to keep it a secret this time.

That you were dating my best friend, who had not told me due to my feelings, yet it was more painful hearing it from you.

I had conflicted feelings, but I of course told her first thing the next day.

Part of me was telling her out of the goodness of my heart, but a larger part felt angry with her and told her almost out of spite.

That she had tried for something I had first and I won.

We continued, less frequently, throughout our high school careers and even more less frequently in college.

Still, when I am around you, I feel it.

When I made my way back to Atlanta from Valparaiso, I stopped and stayed with you in Nashville.

I considered pushing through the whole drive, but I couldn’t. I was also a bit giddy with the idea of staying in the same roof as you again. Maybe a lot giddy.

We had a couple drinks, grabbed dinner, and came back to watch a few things.

In my mind, you were giving me drinks I didn’t ask for to loosen me up.

In my mind, you were edging closer to me on the couch.

In my mind, you were keeping us up late because neither of us wanted to make the first move to go into our separate bedrooms, to end the night defeated.

But it was past midnight, we were out of shows and excuses, and we retreated, untouched, to bed.

Wound up, I took a shower before bed.

I left the blinds of the precariously placed bathroom window right next to the shower and made up that you were outside letting your dog out and watching me rub over my wet, sudsy body in your shower with your bathroom door unlocked.

I managed to fall asleep. With your dog in the doorway, I could not close the bedroom door and thus you gazed upon my sleeping body any time you exited your own room.

You then showered, prepared for bed, while I rest in my loose bralette and boxers cuddled up amongst your linens.

In my mind, you looked at my outline highlighted in the moonlight before touching yourself to the thought of us in the shower.

It was a long shower.

You woke me up.

This time, not the same silhouette. Not the same whisper. But the same energy, the same desire. The same tension.

Stuffed in the guest room that dueled as your office space, I had fallen asleep with your monitor light on, assuming it would shut off on it’s own time.

You offered to shut it off, I obliged.

You came in with that silhouette I missed so dearly and shut if off in your boxer briefs. As you bent over the air mattress I lay on half naked below you, you shut off the monitor and the silhouette of something else in your briefs catches my eye.

Nothing happens. But I wish it did.

In my mind, you wish it did too.