I Should Have Stayed

The soft, silky feeling of clean sheets against my smooth skin instantly relaxed me as I slipped into bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin, snuggling down deep into them, closing my eyes and inhaling the delicious scent of cloth that had been hung out to dry in the crisp autumn breeze.

Sleep was a welcome comfort. The past few weeks had been difficult to cope with, and the only place I could seem to find a truly peaceful refuge was in the serene blackness of slumber, shutting my eyes and turning away from the cold reality that the world always seemed to be shoving at me.

Now, snug beneath the covers and beginning to fade away into the blissful peace of nothingness, I began to think about him.

I thought about the little things that I knew he wouldn't even realize I had noticed. The way his hands had felt as they'd slipped lovingly into mine, how the corners of his mouth curled when he smiled that crooked grin of his, the way his lovely eyes had glimmered in the moonlight as we'd sat together beneath the glistening stars...I remembered it all.

In some ways, I wished fervently that he might be awake too, looking up at the ceiling and asking himself if I was thinking about him. Somehow, I was oddly sure that that wasn't at all the way it was. He'd probably forgotten about me entirely, willing to leave me in his past like some unimportant trinket that he'd lost interest in.

Tears began welling out of my eyes, trickling slowly down my cheeks and dripping onto my pillow. They made tiny thudding sounds as they splashed onto its surface. My mind wasn't peaceful any longer; it had become filled with depressed thoughts of loneliness. Although memories of him saddened me, I continued. Thinking about him hurt incredibly, but the prospect of forgetting him was even more painful.

He'd given me my first kiss. Nobody had known but me. When we'd first met, I had instantly sensed something between us, a peculiar spark that had sent shivers tingling down my spine. He'd sensed it too. Not even a week after I'd met him, I'd found myself sitting close to him, watching as the sun had dropped beneath the horizon.

Although I wished that that evening had lasted forever, it hadn't. Time had ticked away steadily, the minutes disappearing far too swiftly for my liking. Before I knew it, it was time for me to leave. That's when it had happened.

I had stood, relucantly pulling myself up and attempting to stretch the stiffness away. I'd been sitting for quite a while.

"Where are you going?" he'd asked, worry permeating his voice.

"It's time for me to leave now," I answered, gazing back at him.

"No. Not now. Please, don't leave," he'd pleaded, rising to his feet as well.

I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest. "I've got to go," I sighed. "I've got to go."

"Not yet. One more minute," he said, and he reached towards me. Almost without realizing it, I took his hand and drifted towards him. He wrapped his arms gently about me, pulling me close to him. And then, he kissed me.

I'd dreamt about my first kiss for years. What would I do? Would he think I was silly because I'd never kissed anyone before? Would he be able to tell? All of those worries vanished like a puff of smoke, and I found my eyes closing slowly as I melted into him, feeling the strange, awkward loveliness of his soft lips pressing against mine. Time had stood still then, for a moment, and I'd embraced him, feeling thoroughly and completely in love with him as he caressed me.

Now, weeks later, I cried as I remembered when we'd ended the kiss, when we'd stood, entwined in eachother's arms, wishing that the world would just drift away and leave us alone together. He'd begged me again and again not to leave, but the car that would take me far away from him had idled at the end of the driveway and I'd had to go. I'd had to pull myself out of his arms.

I'd never seen him again after that night.

My pillow had grown damp because of my tears. I flipped it over and laid my damp cheek against its dry coolness. Staring sadly out into the darkness, I wished again and again that I'd stayed with him for just one more brief moment, that I'd have kissed his lips one last time, that I'd have laid my head against his chest and listened to the strong pulsing of his heartbeat, that I would've cast every single worry I had to the wind and allowed myself to love him in a brutally honest way.

I should've stayed.