After softly, and chastely wishing you goodnight, I close the door and lean back against it, letting out an exaggerated sigh that tickles my dark bangs. For a moment, I just stand there, lost in thought, replaying the events of the evening in my mind. Wishing I had done this differently, or said that differently. I hope that my nervousness didn't come across as obvious to him like it was to me. Since our kiss earlier in the evening, I can't stop thinking about it, and wonder if he is affected, like me.
Over and over, I watch in my mind's eye as our lips meet. Like seeing a movie, or a sports replay on slo-mo. I should have taken it farther. I should have been honest with myself and taken a chance.
But the idea of you pushing me away absolutely terrifies me. I think back on recent years, how many times I have felt rejected, used, or just plain worthless. Having spent so much time trying to build up my confidence, like a wall, it only takes a night like tonight to really bring the truth home. That, oh-so-precious wall I built? It was made of sand. Of glass. If you look hard enough, you can see right through me anyway, and a glass castle can't stand indefinitely. It was a facade. Not the solution I imagined it to be.
That's the heart of the matter really. Being so afraid that someone might realize how wounded I am underneath, that I would rather suffer alone than take a chance.
I can't do that anymore.
With new resolve, I make my way to my kitchen for a glass of water, kicking off my heels in the hallway. I stop to glance at myself in the hall mirror, critically trying to see what he might see. Short, posh haircut, dark brown hair, tinged with dark auburn. Also dark, golden eyes that tilt just slightly up at the corners, rimmed with long sooty eyelashes. High cheekbones, and a mischievous mouth. I wish my lips were poutier. A pretty face, I guess. I look down at the rest of me. A petite frame, with curves in the right places, accentuated by the short black dress I was wearing. Smallish breasts though. Or maybe I just think they aren't big enough. My little waist flares out to nice hips. Pulling a face at my reflection, having not come to any useful conclusions, I continue on my kitchen run. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I take it to the sink and idly hold my fingers under the faucet until the water runs cold, all the while deep in thought.
I should call him. I should tell him what a great night I had, and that I would be disappointed if I didn't see him again soon. Be bold.
Remember that kiss? You know the one where you would have rather torn his clothes off and had your wicked way with him rather than have it end? You could do that. Maybe he wants you too. You'll never know if you don't make a move...
I smile wryly and roll my eyes at myself. My inner monologue is never silenced.
Resolutely, I pull my cell phone out from its hiding place in my bra, and scroll the contacts until I find his number. I stare at it. Then sigh again.
I need to at least be sitting down for this.