Why Was She Here

Why was she here? Did she want revenge? Was she lonely, or even depressed? Or did she actually want me? I didn't want to ask her.

What if she gave me the answer I didn't want to hear? That I was just being used by her to stop the pain, if only for a few seconds.

I wasn't going to ask her, why would I? This is what I had wanted for as long as I had known her.

She was wrapped around me, clinging on like she'd fall if she let go. Her legs were entwined with mine and she was holding my arms around her, just in case my legs came loose from hers.

She needn't have worried, letting go was the last thing on my mind. All I wanted to do was be there, with her, in this moment forever.

Would I have been happy if I had died right there? No, I would have been ecstatic. I was so, so in lust with her it was unbelievable. I managed to forget why she couldn't stay here forever when she talked about her boyfriend, the betrayer. Why would he even think about betraying this most beautiful person? Isn't the image of her face burned so deeply into his retinas that he cannot even think of another woman? I closed my eyes and could still see her.

"Are you tired?"

I could barely keep my eyes open. The alcohol and adrenaline from the party was wearing off fast. "No, not at all."

"Do you want to talk some more?"

"I'm scared of where the conversation will go."

"What do you mean?"

Honesty is the best policy. Honesty is the best policy. Honesty is the best policy. I had to keep telling myself that. I was honest with her.

"You're lying here, wrapped around me, if you stay here any longer, I don't know what I'll do. I mean, I know what I want to do, but I know that you can't, or you shouldn't, do anything like that. What I mean is that if you want me to let go, to roll over and go to sleep, I will, I'm not forcing you into anything, I've got nothing to lose."

Ha! What a lie; if she let go, and I rolled over I could have lost my first chance of happiness in nearly a year and a half. I had a lot to lose.

I swallowed and carried on.

"But if you want to stay then you should know that I would be happy if you stayed here all night."

She didn't leave.

We talked more. I lost track of time. We talked about our fears, painful memories, about when her parents split up, when my parents split up. It was funny how the people and times were different but the feelings were painfully similar.

I looked up to the window; the first rays of the morning sun were shining through the thin curtains. We didn't have long together. She had to be gone before everyone woke up or everything would fall apart. I didn't have long.

I used the last drops of alcohol and adrenaline left in my body and said something that a selfless person would not have said:

"Can I kiss you?"

It must have been a few seconds, if that. But it felt so much longer.

This question that I had secretly wanted to ask her since she had crawled into my bed was out in the open and she was running it through her head. What was she thinking of? The outcome? The fallout? The satisfaction?

She kissed me.

It was fast, it was hot, it was passionate.

She wanted me! I nearly screamed with joy. She wanted me! Our hands ran over each other's bodies, which in turn where writhing against each other. Soft moans escaped her lips. Not only did she want me, I was actually satisfying her as much as she was satisfying me.

The next moments would change our lives in ways I would be unable to comprehend at this point in time. Even if I could have understood the outcomes of our actions, I wouldn't have cared. I had the woman I had lusted after for the past year in my bed, in my arms and under my spell and I wouldn't have stopped making love to her if the walls had caved in and thunderstorms had started up outside.

We took up our positions just as we had before we made love. Except we were naked. I giggled to myself at how at ease she was with her nakedness. Most girls would throw their clothes on as soon as they could, but she was in no rush.

So we lay there, as we had for the past few hours, except there were no words. What could we say? If there were words to be said, I was unaware of them. So we lay there, naked and happy.

[The morning after]

She's beautiful.

I looked at her.

Her hair was down, just how I preferred it, and flowing over her shoulders. She was wearing one of my old t-shirts and even though it was old, even though it was torn and even though it dropped down past her thighs, it seemed to suit her so perfectly, she may well have picked it out herself.

The morning sun shone through the half open kitchen blinds and a soft breeze brushed past the swaying trees outside. This moment was one that I had dreamt of hundreds, probably even thousands, of times before but for some reason I felt distressed inside. Half of me knew how beautiful this moment was, how picture-perfect it seemed, and the other half knew how gut-wrenchingly painful it would be when it ended.

She must have noticed this scarcely concealed look on my face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

A lie. How long had we been together? It had started already. She seemed content with the façade I had quickly put together as she sat opposite me as the kettle boiled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

That was two in a row. A person can get too good at something.

The kettle boiled and she got up to pour herself some coffee. She didn't offer me any. She knew me too well.

I looked through to the bedroom, the bed was a mess. Passing memories of last night raced through my head as my eyes moved around the room and a smile edged onto my face.

She must have noticed it; she sat down next to me and put her arm around my waist. I sighed heavily. Even the slightest touch felt so good. She nestled her head into the space in my shoulder that seemed custom-made for her.

"Last night was special."

That was all I needed to hear.

Words deserted me. I did what I wished every question could be met by. Her lips felt soft as I planted every kiss on them. This is where I wanted to be. Where I wanted to stay.

She broke my moment of bliss and took a sip of her coffee. Every move she made seemed so perfect, as if it had been planned and practiced before. She was inspiring; she had been my muse for so long.

I had written countless songs about every aspect of this, this creature standing before me. This living, breathing being who appeared to have been 'hand-made' to come into my world and show me the true meaning of the word, the emotion, the feeling, 'love'.

She's beautiful.