Love Ridden

I can’t help myself during dinner. I find every excuse to touch Madelyn, to tease her. I congratulate myself for making her laugh so hard tears come to her eyes. We have a great time. I enjoy a night with no one else is on my mind but her, but to be honest, that’s how it normally works.

I would say that I loved her from the moment we met, but that’s not true. I’ve never believed that love was something that could be felt and found that easily, but to say I liked her from that first moment is an understatement. I completely adored her. I found everything about her absolutely intoxicating. We became fast friends, her sauciness and my sarcasm working hand and hand. I knew that I had found an amazing girl the moment she looked at me after I'd pointed out something perfectly clear to everyone in the room. She looked up at me, completely dead panned and said, “Thank you Captain Obvious. Very astute observations.”

At this very moment her laugh was pulling me back to the present. She had this tendency to wave her hands or stomp her feet when she was really laughing, but the best times were the times like right now, the moments when she was laughing so hard she was silent, tears spilling over her cheeks. She would cry out my name as she swiped at her face, still coming down, a few giggles escaping.

I loved hearing her say my name. It always made me so happy, but it also made me long to hear her say it with a different tone in her voice. I wanted to hear my name pass from her lips, her voice breathy and rough. I wanted her to say it over and over again as I took her for mine. I wanted to know exactly what she sounded like when she was at her perfect high. Shaking my head, I try to bring myself back to the conversation. This had been happening more and more of late, my mind wandering off to think of her in compromising positions. My thoughts were making my jeans fit uncomfortably. I reach down and adjust myself, giving myself slightly more room. Secretly, I hope that she will notice and ask me what exactly I’m doing, but she doesn’t.

Dinner is over and I suggest we go and sit on the couch for a bit. She reaches for her beer at the same time as me. My fingers momentarily wrap around hers and I wish with all that I am that I could take her hand in mine, but just as quickly she releases the bottle to me. She follows me to my lounge and starts to make herself comfortable next to me. My couch is large and plush but she sits close to me, tucking her feet under my leg, claiming they are cold. She is quiet for a while and I can tell she is thinking of something. She seems like she is working up the nerve to say something and I silently pray that she doesn’t want to talk about Number Two. I don’t want to talk to her about that. She opens her mouth a few times only to close it again and when she finally does speak, I know that whatever it was she's decided to not say it. She tells me instead that she’s going to the loo.

I watch her walk back and I wonder if she will notice the dish. What will she think? All night I’ve thought about that damn dish. It’s stupid really but I wish that she had put it there. I wish that my place was filled with little touches from her, like ciders in the fridge instead of just beer because I know she likes those better or her shampoo in my shower, her own pillow on her side of our bed.

I sit back heavily and take a long draw from my bottle. I should tell her. I really should. But when? A little voice inside my head asks, “Why not tonight?”

I sit forward again quickly. Yes. Tonight. Why not tonight?! I’ve been waiting entirely too long for this moment. I’m gonna do it. I’m going to tell her exactly how I feel. I stand up when I hear her walk out from the back. Walking towards her, I can see that something has changed. Her face is no longer light and sweet, no longer happy and contented. Instead, she looks pale. Before I can even ask what’s wrong, she tells me she going to leave. I walk her to the door, unsure of what else to do. I help her put her coat on and wrap her in my arms again, but she doesn’t melt into me like normal. Pulling back from her, I try to read her again. Nothing. Still nothing. Just a fleeting look of sadness before the mask falls into place again. I want to kiss her and tell her that whatever it is, I can fix it, I can make her feel better, but the moment is wrong. It is too badly bent off course for me to chance it. I place my lips to her forehead and think, ’next time…’

As I shut the door behind her I can’t help but wonder what just happened. Did I just miss my moment?

Notes