How she locked me out of the trailer in a storm, and I had to sleep beneath a tiny, glass table in the pouring rain.
Or how I’d found her in a puddle of her own vomit that she made me clean up the next morning.
How she broke my heart for the first time.
And the second.
And the third.
People used to always tell me to take the good with the bad, but there was never any good to take.
Remembering my childhood made me panic.
But tonight, I forced myself to remember it all, and it sent me into a spiral. I shot upright, hugging my knees to my chest, attempting to calm myself down.
Breathing techniques didn’t work.
Words of affirmation didn’t work.
Water, wine,none of it worked.
And that’s when I caved.
That’s when I texted him, and told him I needed him.
I expected my message to be read in the late morning. I expected him to come over—condom in his back pocket—ready to fuck me until the sun came up, but he didn’t. He didn’t even try.
And I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want me like that. He’s made it very obvious time and time again that I’m the only one he wants in that way. But I was glad when he didn’t pressure me into something thatIthought he would expect.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” he whispers to me, my head still nuzzled into his neck. I don’t know what the time is, or how long he’s been here, but I know at some point I dozed off.And when I woke up thinking he’d left, it felt like a part of me was missing. When I felt him move beside me, I felt like I could breathe.
Sinking my head deeper into his chest, I realize he and I have never been so close while either of us are clothed. He smells like alcohol and cigarettes.
“Since when do you smoke?” I pull back, taking in every detail of his face that the light from the moon will allow.
So breathtakingly handsome, and after tonight, probably even more so.
“Smoke?” he asks, his voice sleepy, croaky and quiet.
“Your shirt smells like it’s been washed with a bottle of whisky and nicotine.”
Near-silent laughter rumbles through his chest. “Well, that depends. Are you asking actor Cole Green or Bartender Cole?” His hands softly caress the back of my head, but he doesn’t pull me closer, he just mindlessly plays with my hair.
“Bartender…?” I ask, realizing I know nothing about his past, other than what my quick internet search allowed.
Former model turned actor.
“We can talk about it tomorrow. Are you sure you want me to stay?” he asks again with a soft kiss on my forehead.
I wriggle closer to him. “I’m sure. Unless you have to—”
“Here is the only place I want to be.” He places a soft kiss on my lips and snuggles in, one of his arms wrapped around me. It isn’t long before his breathing slows. I don’t know if he’s fallen asleep , or if he’s relaxed, knowing I don’t want him to leave, but something about this is comforting.
My demons themselves aren’t physical, but I know even if they were, he would be the one to shield me from them. My heart hammers in my chest knowing I have someone like Cole Green in my corner. Yet, my mind demands that I remind myself—this is temporary.
This will expire.
This willend.
