Lying there with a girl I don't know sobbing gentle against me, staring at the ceiling and the lights dancing from the street outside. How did I get here? Most guys would have loved this situation, and most guys would have been easily swayed but this twenty year's old cries and heartfelt tears, mistaking passion for regret and uncertainty. As a nineteen year old myself, I'd had my share of emotional feedback and so could sympathies.
I wasn't at all happy with this situation tho. She was crying because her boyfriend had broken up with her earlier on tonight, and because I was the only sole at the party willing to listen and laugh at her jokes. She attached herself to me, trying to bring to her heart stability and control by using me, and playing with my emotions.
I was angry at her for doing this, but also sympathetic. I knew what she was going through, and not by experience, but by the ability to think through what her motives are and what her actions mean. I held her against me as I lay on her bed, being invited upstairs into her apartment and into her bedroom by her, telling me she was too drunk to navigate the halls without a steady hand, and a strong frame to lean on.
I was here because as I walked to my car after the party, I saw her standing out the front of the house, already having said goodbye to me, sobbing silently as she tried calling someone for a ride home. Annoyed at myself for helping her, I walked her to my car, into the passenger seat, and even drove her to her house, and walked her to her door.
She held herself close, her head resting on my shoulder as her right hand scrunched my shirt inside her fist, holding onto me tight as she shuddered, her breathe shaking as she fought herself from crying. Wriggling her feet around as she let pour tear after tear onto me, using my shirt to dry her eyes.
I had seen her lover at the start of the party, seen his eyes fill with puzzle and uncertainty every time he went to talk to her. She seemed so happy and bouncy before he took her aside and let go with what was on his chest. Leaving her to drink and laugh off what had been said. She was nice and offered to pour me a drink while she was at her 5th for the night, beginning a conversation without me even talking. A nod and a smile and suddenly she could confide in me, and rely on me to keep her company for the night.
She clenched her teeth and breathed through them shakily again, tightening her grip on my shirt as she sobbed over and over again. Rolling my eyes, I placed my left hand on her shoulder and squeezed, not knowing what else she needed. As I did this it almost made it worse, she began openly crying, really pouring out as the barrier she'd built finally collapsed, washed away with the tears the flowed.
"Sshhh" I hushed, blowing into her hair as she wrapped her right leg around mine, crying deeply now, trying desperately to bury her head in my shoulder. She wailed softly for a short time, before finally calming down and breathing deeply, still shaking but a lot calmer.
"Th – Thanks for being here fo – for me," she said, too loud to be a whisper, and to hoarse to be soft, but as quiet as a whisper, and as meaningful as a soft word. "I really needed this." She let go of my shirt and slid her right hand down my body, reaching my belt buckle before I could stop her. I grabbed her hand and held it, stopping her fingers from trying to unclasp my belt with my left hand.
"I'm not here for you Liz." My harsh voice stabbed at the room, filling the corners with a gruff and dry voice, not angry or vicious, but truthful. In fact I was here because I couldn't find a window in which to detach myself from her after I helped her out of my car. I was planning on just pulling up, watch her get out and close the door, then drive off, but she did need help getting out, and I didn't exactly feel it was nice just pushing her out.
