We’re done and we sit for those few, endless, awkward moments. I can hear my heart thumping in my chest, both our breaths heavy and in tune. This is the worst part, afterwards, when I know you have to leave like it meant nothing, when really it meant so much to me.
I sit on the edge of the bed with you beside me. I push my toes into my soft cream carpet, keeping my focus on them. Not you. I can’t bring myself to look at you because I know when I do your eyes will ask me where the door is and you’ll have to leave. And I really, truly, most definitely do not want you to leave. I don’t want that awkward goodbye as you walk away from me, and you don’t kiss me or run after me. I don’t want to face that long time alone on my bed, awake yet dreaming of how it could be… how it should be. Why did I ever agree to this?
I can hear the ticking clock in my head, the seconds mocking my attempt to drag this out. And I can feel your gaze on me. Grudgingly, I look up and face you. You smile a small smile and stand up. I copy your actions because I don’t know what else to do. I try to act like I’m fine but I’m sure you can see right through it. If you can see, you never say anything, so maybe you can’t.
We pad slowly out of the door. journeying along the hall, my feet cold on the marble floor. I try to act efficient, clinical, not show any emotion. “Wham bam, thank you sir”, I said coupled with a mock salute. You laughed and saluted back. If I don’t think it then I won’t feel it. Then I smile at you in what I think looks like I’m-really-trying-not-to-care-but-I-think-I’m-in-love-with-you-so-please-kiss-me way, but hoping it comes off as a cool, collected indifference.
Suddenly your arms wrap around me in an awkward embrace, a kiss on my head. Why did you have to be so perfect in my arms? The touch is electric, jump starting my heart. It only lasts a few seconds, and then you pull away and the elevator door opens. There it is. The cool, mocking, reflective box. I look at you through my lashes with an empty smile bidding you goodbye. I walk away. I wonder if your eyes lingered on me the short moment before the elevator door shut. I resigned myself back to my door. You don’t come after me. It would be stupid, of course, if I expected you to. Life isn’t a movie. This is reality.