Love Ridden

I’ve been thinking about her all day. It’s been almost a week since I talked to her last, one really long week. I’ve been trying to focus on Number Two, trying to throw myself head first into this thing we have. I say thing because I wouldn’t call it a relationship. No, it's not really a relationship. I probably shouldn’t be thinking about someone else when I’m in a relationship, you know? Like I probably shouldn’t compare every girl I date with my best friend. That’s why none of them ever last. I look like an asshole with a string of girls, but I’m not. I just can’t seem to make myself fall for anyone but her. I’ve tried believe me, I've tried, but it never works. She makes all these other girls look terrible. It’s like in my head, she is always going to be better than them.

She is Mozart. They are just boring elevator music.

I think I’ve been talking about her too much because Number Two is starting to give me weird looks. I can tell she’s annoyed every time I start a sentence with, “Madelyn…” But I can’t help it. She's constantly on my brain. That’s why my phone is in my hand. I can’t take it anymore. I need to hear her voice, hear her laugh.

It's time to end my self imposed fast.

I open my phone and go to my favorites. She is first on the list. I look at the tiny picture beside her name. Just a picture taken on a random day. Her hair was wild because we were outside, her face flushed from running and she is laughing with her head thrown back and her smile huge. I smile at it as I hit send and wait as the phone rings and rings. Finally, her voice mail picks up. I think about leaving a message, but decide not to.

Not two seconds later my phone is ringing. I answer and wait to hear her voice. The sound of it feels like water to a parched throat, like air to a drowning man. I feel everything in my body settle because this is what she does to me. I wish I could take her everywhere with me. I would use her like a drug every time I started to feel anxious because she is what calms me.

I tell her I miss her stupid face. And because she is who she is, she has a perfect response. She calls her face a masterpiece. Tells me, I must be thinking of my own.

I’ve missed our banter. Missed it more than I thought. It makes me realize I have to see her. No. I need to see her. I invite her over for tonight. I even promise to cook. Though my skills are passable at best. She tells me she’ll be here and I feel my heart thump in my chest. I’m already getting excited.

It’s not until we hang up that I remember I’m supposed to see Number Two tonight. But that’s not going to happen. I’ve got the girl I want coming to see me tonight. A quick glance around my place tells me I’ve got some work to do before then.

I want it to be perfect for her. Everything should always be perfect for her.

Notes