Untitled--Prologue

**Note**: It may be a bit confusing at first, but that's how it's supposed to be!****

CHARACTERS: Do not have names, currently.

--Can you really have your cake and eat it too?--

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               He pulls into my driveway on a cloudy Sunday afternoon.  The air is sticky and humid as I step out my front door and I can smell the rain flowing toward us from miles away.  But I refuse to let the weather get in the way of our plans because I have been waiting for an entire seven days for this day to be alone with him and nothing is going to stand in the way of our time.
         As I climb into the passenger seat of his compact blue car, he immediately reaches over to me and squeezes me in a tight hug.  His long, dark brown hair brushes against my bare shoulder and I realize just how anxious I have been to be held by him, as simple as this.  This was the love I had always imagined but had never felt before.
         “Where do you want to go today?”  He asks, smiling, flashing his mysterious green eyes at me from underneath the tangles of his hair.
         “I don't care,” I laugh, grabbing his hand as he drives away from the view of my house.  “Just as long as I'm with you.”
         “Fine with me,” he smiles brilliantly.
         I take the time he is driving around to take in what is happening.  His small hand; not much larger than mine in size, but warmth is radiating off his palm and tingling down his fingers, giving the feel of being much more wise and strong than his age foretold.  They are rough in a way but soft in another way, so perfect beyond my imagination.  His arms, thick yet thin, not at all the type of arms to have the bulging muscles that I find disgusting beyond belief; His shoulders, so broad, they carry his entire torso so smoothly and well that I find myself unbearably able to look away.  He glances over and laughs at my lost thoughts, and the moment is pieced apart with his laughter but so gently done that I don't even mind.
         “Do you want to ride by the country?  We've never gotten to before and I'd love to see your old property,”  he asks me.  I nod my head eagerly and he grips my hand tighter, but not at all uncomfortably.  I describe the directions and anticipate our moments we'll spend there, skipping rocks across the creek and maybe even hiking up the rocky hill to the hidden pond.
         I look at him one last time, taking in his magnificent presence before I lean back against the seat and close my eyes, imagining his crystal green eyes glistening in my mind, staring into my eyes that are so dark, so pained, so full of worry.  He then takes his hand and brushes it against my face, so gently, like soft silk running over my blushed cheek and sending chills throughout my body.  Instantly the worry is replaced with a sort of hope, that everything that hurts us will be all right in the end....
         My daze is cut short by the ringer of my phone.  I bend over to grab my purse from the floorboard and fumble around inside it for the cheap flip phone.  But it's too late; I have one missed call, and it's from whom I feared most.  I turn toward him, my eyes stinging and trying to hold my tears back.  This moment, our time, I knew it would be over soon.  He would turn around and I would end up at home in the dark box of my room, burying my face and drenching the pillow with an unstoppable current of tears.
         I sigh, so sharply that it hurts, my head spinning and my fingers trembling as I dial the dreadful numbers I painfully remember, linking my secret to my burden with one click.
         “Why didn't you answer?” He asks hoarsely.  I flip through the resources of my mind for a quick excuse.
         “I was in the living room talking to my mom,” I reply.
         “You never told me that you woke up.”
         “I haven't been up too long,”  I say.  I glance at my secret, and he is staring at the road emptily.  I can sense the hurt that is pulsing through him.  “She woke me up to ask me something, and I was just about to go back to my room to sleep when I heard the phone ring.”
         The voice on the other end sighs.  “I guess we're not doing anything today, then.”
         “We've been together every single day this week.  Can I not get a day to myself?”  I cry, the tears beginning to lift over my eyelids and straying down my cheek.  He reaches his hand over and swiftly brushes away the tears.  I gasp silently, remembering the vision I had of worry being washed away with his single touch. 
         I do not listen to what the voice on the phone says to me.  I quickly tell him I am going back to sleep and falsely agree to call him when I “wake up”. 
         When I return my phone to my purse in the floorboard, I grab his hand again and smile, refusing to tear away from his stare, his happiness forcibly being pushed outward, when I know truly that it is all just a lie to keep the day going well.  The truth is, we both aren't happy hiding like this, never seeing each other outside of school, and although we talk at school it can never be more that that, except perhaps the occasional bump of our hands, which isn't occasional enough to me.
         We are living the secret love that most find so tantalizing, so taunting, so teasingly obsessive, when all that is in the way is a person: The person I am tied to, unwillingly now, but in the beginning it wasn't like that.  And that was when this boy and I had barely known each other; it would still be that if it weren't for all the time we had that intertwined.  I eventually felt a calling toward him, that he was right, that he was true, and I felt connected to him.  He became my best friend, the one I trusted with everything, the one I revealed to about my reoccurring thoughts of breaking up with whom I was with, never telling him that he was the main reason why, and as we spent more time talking, we become irresistible to each other. 
         And now it has come to this, once out of the week I spend an hour with him, never much more than that, and it tears me apart.  We have such a strong bond, impenetrable, no one can ever break it, not even time.  I'm torn between who I have been with, and who I desire to be with.  I don't know how much longer I can take it, and eventually I just might crack.  I need him, but I've always had the other.  Can I deal with leaving one behind?  Could this just be a crush, someone I seek to for the attention I never get from my boyfriend?  Or is this real?  Am I truly in love, have I never known love until now?  Have I really wasted a whole year on a man I have never loved? 
         Will I ever know these answers?