Ever mine?

Sam crept along the hall way to the kitchen, he needed a drink and a think and he didn’t want to wake her. He had known for a long time that she would never be fully his, and he had sworn this wouldn’t happen again, that he would be strong and not let her in, but stood there at the door her hair wet from the shower his self resolve had diminished. He opened the fridge and took the orange juice out silently, cursing himself for being so weak. All his friends had told him to give up on her, especially after last time when he had seen her with that man in a restaurant. She had been wearing a tight white dress, her hair in loose curls and she had been laughing. He was an old friend she had told him, someone she had known forever. He drank down his glass of orange.

They had met at a street fair in the September of the previous year, he hadn’t wanted to go but his brother had persuaded him, pulling him out of bed and throwing a t-shirt at him.
‘There’s this girl I want to meet there’ he had told him, and so they had gone. The fact that she had been meeting his brother should have been enough to warn him, but she had shown so little interest in Joe and stared so much at him that when she had discreetly passed him her phone number he had taken it with gusto.
‘She used to go out with my friend,’ Sinead at work had told him, ‘He said he was always playing catch up with her, he never knew where he was and she had so many “friends” he found it difficult to trust her.’ Sam had resented these comments at first, lost in the lust, which he was certain was love, of her luscious locks and perfect body. He had told everyone about her, friends, family, acquaintances, work colleagues and then three weeks after she stopped returning his calls.
‘Well she was clearly bound to be a head case,’ his brother had said to which Sam had promptly put the phone down.  She had phoned him a month later, when he had just about given up hope of ever speaking to her again. She was so sorry, she hadn’t meant to hurt him, an old friend had been going through a rough time so she had gone to stay with him. He hadn’t asked who the old friend was, although he had his suspicions, and instead she had come over and he had cooked her dinner. A few weeks later he had been walking to get his train when he had seen her sitting outside a café with her hand on another mans. He had been unable to take his eyes off the scene, watching surreptitiously from the side lines like a passing stranger. When she had finally noticed him she had smiled and beckoned him over but he had walked away. Why did you leave, she had text him and he had managed to ignore the text for twenty four hours after which she had turned up again and clung onto him, her skin warm against his skin.
‘Its acceptable behaviour if you aren’t official,’ his sister had said when he’d told her, ‘Just don’t fall for her.’ But it was too late he had.

He poured himself another glass of orange, last night they had had a fight, he had told her he’d seen her in the restaurant and that he didn’t understand. He’d demanded some truth and thrown his weight around and now he regretted it. She had cried, staring at him with her big brown eyes full of tears and he had taken her to bed to try to make things better. He sighed and put his glass in the sink, the argument had been futile all he had done was upset her, and he hadn’t got the answer he wanted. He tiptoed back down the hall, she was still there in his bed, hugging a pillow. He slid in beside her and as she rolled over and snuggled herself into the nook in his arm he forgot his worries because she was there with him, at least for that night.


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