The Need for Her

There she is.

She just gets off the cab. She's wearing a shirt and a very short pair of shorts. It's her favorite appearance of late. I think it has something to do with the weather.

It's ten-thirty p.m. and I'm waiting for her, as promised. We have made plans to meet here, on this dark parking lot, near the closed mall. We made the plan when she texted me.

Her: Hey, where are you?
Me: At home. Why?
Her: I need a place to crash for tonight.
Me: Sure. Come on over.

She thinks her life is so bad at home. I always refrain from pointing out that my life is much worse.

"Hey," she says. "Hey," I said. She smiles. She always has that smile, engaging. Like she's asking you to smile along with her.

"Have you eaten yet?" I asked. I'm thinking not yet. She shakes her head. "Let's go eat then," I said.

We went to this 24/7 diner. Through burgers and fries, she entertained me with stories about her day at work, how hard it was to be a paralegal and all that stuff. She always does that, even when she's not in a bind. When she tells you about her day, she makes it sound interesting and fun. Then her full lips started to pout. I knew why she was sad all of a sudden. I wanted to touch her hand but then she might refuse it. It's not in her character to let me touch her.

We took a cab to my place. During the short ride, she was quiet. So, it was my turn to keep the silence away. Not easy because I usually don't have much to say. Once we got to my place, she went straight for my computer and bagan playing my music list.

I just sat at the edge of my bed, watching her. She's lying on her stomach as she inspects my playlist. We have known each other for more than ten years, but I still get this feeling that I can't reach her, can't really be near her. And it doesn't even matter that she seems to like me as a friend, I still feel...lost.

"Where's the Paramore songs?" she said.

Her voice broke into my thoughts. Paramore is one of her favorite bands. I scooted in closer to her so that I can see what she's doing. Her hair smells nice, a little spicy. I think she's using a new shampoo.

I look at the computer screen. "You're looking at the wrong folder," I told her. So I took the mouse and directed it to the right folder. Her hair grazes my chin. "There you go," I said. She looked up at me and smiled. "Thank you!" she said.

As I put my hand down, it brushes her arm. I looked at her if she's noticed. She didn't. She just kept on clicking away with the mouse. I brush my hand down her arm, all the while looking at her. She still doesn't notice. Emboldened by her silence, I put my hand on her waist and I leaned just a little bit closer to her. She's still busy with the computer. Then I did what a normal male would do, I leaned in and kissed her neck.

She jumped up and looked at me. Her eyes tell me that she's seeing me for the first time. She's breathing heavy; we both are. Then she said, "What are you--"

"I'm sorry. I can explain!"

"Stay back!"

"Wait! Let me ex--!"

"I thought we were friends?"

"We are! But I just--!"

"I'm going home." Then she left.

I watched her walk out of my place. After she slammed the door, I put my head on my hands and cursed.