He Knows
He knows.I bet he’s known all along. I bet he’s just done this to me to watch me suffer. I can see it in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, that he likes it rough, and likes to make it rough. I bet he’s one sadistic son of a bitch. He’d love to have someone tied up, love to have a whip in his hands, love to pour the burning candle wax all over their naked skin… But those are only theories. God knows I’ll never really know what he likes. What he loves. I know what he doesn’t love. Me.He already has the love of his life. I’ve seen them together too many times, at his house, at a club. They’re always smiling, always glad to be in each other’s arms. It’s not like I hate the person he’s with, either. We’re good friends, and have been for a while. Whenever I see them together, I can’t help but smile myself because they look so damn happy. Deep down inside, though, I can feel it smoldering, filling my slowly, fire and ice in my veins.I’ve spent too much time alone with him, I think. Too much closeness, too much me and him. I remember all those bus trips, when he’d sit across from me and fall asleep… he was so cute when he was asleep… and I’d take pictures of him, praying he wouldn’t wake up because of the flash on the camera. He didn’t. He would just shift and moan softly in his slumber. I remember going to that one party and finding him with his love asleep in his arms and wanting to be that person, curled up next to him. I wanted to hold a pillow over his face and make him go away so these feelings wouldn’t torment me anymore.I have a lot of conflicting emotions about him.Sometimes I pray that he’ll just go away, just leave me alone so I can let him go. Sometimes I pray that he’ll come to my house in the middle of the night and throw rocks at my window to get my attention, climb up on the rooftop and through my window, lie down in my bed with me. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to make love with him—feel those soft, precious lips all over my body—but that’s not what I crave. I just want him to be there to hold me, stroke my hair, kiss my forehead, my ears, my cheeks, my neck. I would kill to have those lips meet mine. But they won’t. They never will.He was always flirting with me. That’s what annoyed me most. Sometimes right in front of his lover. He grins, his eyes locking onto mine as I try not to blush. And all those soft, almost forbidden touches—a hand on my thigh, our hands brushing, his head on my shoulder. How I wished I could have that all the time.I’ve done so much for him. All those rides home I gave to him…to both of them. They’d be kissing in the back seat while I drove, concentrating on nothing but the road for fear I’d start crying. All those times we’d make plans together and then he’d cancel because he had to be with the love of his life. We’d go to the mall, to the movies, hell, we even went trick-or-treating this year, but never just me and him. Never alone. I think I know why.He knew.I just learned from a close friend of both of ours that he’s known for a long time. He’s kept it a secret from me, and as much as I tried to keep it a secret from him he learned about it. I’d tried to hold it all in, not tell anyone anything for fear he or they or I would get hurt. But somehow the secret came out into the open. I asked one of my friends if it was really that obvious and she said yes; that every minute I was around you, I seemed more lit up, more animated, more alive than any other time. You did make me happy. She said you could see it in my face, in my eyes, the way I really felt about you. I almost want to thank you for being such a good friend by ignoring all of this. You saw that you made me happy and you just played along.That’s all this is now. A play. And we’re in it, with no script, no stage directions, and the lights are out. All we can see is each other on this stage. It’s just a game now. Who can be the better actor? Who can keep this charade going? We’ve been good. I haven’t done anything more to attract his attention. A few words at the club, a call on the telephone, an invitation to a dinner. If anything, I’ve been ignoring him more. And even though it pains me to do so, I won’t have to keep it up for much longer. Two more weeks. Then he’ll be gone.I want to spend those two weeks with him. Every minute of every day with him.There’s another bus trip coming up, next week. No cameras for me this time. I’ll just take him in with my eyes and try to memorize every little detail about him. Like how, when it’s humid out, his hair will go limp and hang down almost into his eyes. I’ll try to remember the exact shape of his nose and the curve of his jaw. His dimples and the tiny little wrinkles around his eyes when he smiles or laughs. I can never forget that smile. I have to try and do this secretly, of course. I can’t imagine what he would think if he caught me staring at him. Maybe he’ll fall asleep like he always does.God damn it, I’m going to miss him.I keep hoping maybe my dreams will come true and he’ll confront me about all of this. Just pull me aside somewhere quiet, a little dark. He’ll tell me he knows and that he loves me too, but he loves her more. I’ll ask for a kiss—because that’s all I really want, just a soft, simple kiss—and he’ll give it to me. He’ll wrap one arm around my waist and pull me close, and I’ll put both my arms around him. He’ll bring his free hand up and wrap it in the hair and the back of my head, his fingers lightly massaging my neck. It will be just lips at first, but then he’ll open my mouth with his tongue and I’ll feel him inside of me, and he’ll feel me inside of him. We’ll break apart suddenly, afraid of getting caught. We’ll stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, our silent vows to not tell another soul. I would never break a promise to him. Things won’t be awkward after the kiss, it will just like they were before—both of us pretending nothing ever happened, nothing will happen. It’s a hard game to play. I don’t like it anymore.But he knows. Whatever happens now is up to him. I can’t and won’t make a move. It’s his decision. I hope he makes the right one.I pray he makes the one that will put him with me, but I know he’ll make the one in which he is happiest. That’s the one without me.I know.
Feedback, if you like.
