I woke up in an unfamiliar bed without a pillow. Sun was shining through closed blinds next to me, warming the duvet thrown across the bed. Even though sleeping in skinny jeans and a hoodie isn't the most comfortable, all I wanted to do was curl up in the dark blue sheets and fall back asleep.
Something moved next to me, startling me. For a moment, I was almost afraid to look not wanting to accept what I knew was true.
Shreyas was lying next to me, drool pooling next to him on his pillow.
So many things ran through my mind. Should I leave? Should I wake him up? What if his parents were home? However, through all of the jumbled nonsense, there was one thing that I still couldn't turn over.
We had slept together, but not like the first time. We had actually slept next to each other, fully clothed, not even touching.
I always thought it was awkward being the first one awake. At sleepovers I was constantly awake before everyone else.
The clock read 7:30. I was trying to remember if we had school today, but I soon realized, I didn't care.
Just then an arm started to snake around my waist, and a face buried into my hair.
He sighed. "You smell nice."
I tried to push him away, but he only held me closer. "You smell disgusting."
He laughed. "You know you love it."
"Why am I here?" Shreyas groaned and began to sit up.
"Why do you always have to ruin the moment?"
"There was no moment." He rolled his eyes.
"You were tired and I was tired," he said finally.
"So why'd you take me here? You do know that there is an abundance of beds at my house, right?"
His deep brown eyes twinkled. "I wanted to be tired with you."
A crimson blush started to form on my cheeks as he said those words, though they only made me more confused. What were we? What is this? The familiarity of the situation started to snap these past few weeks into perspective. He had done this before, the charm, the flirting. It was hard to believe that this time was any different.
All for shits and giggles.
"Take me home." I had already started to get out of the bed, but his grasp stopped me.
It was amazing how much such a short word could make a person angry. "Take. Me. Home," I almost yelled.
"You're going to wake everyone up," he sighed, and patted the space next to him. "Come sit."
"No," I screamed, "you are not going to do this to me again! I'm not going to let you charm your way into my life, only to break my heart again!"
There was hurt in his eyes, but at this point I didn't care. He had hurt me so many times that there was no justification for sympathy. I had let my guard down for a second and he came parading back into my life. I tried to be better, to make sure that this time would be different.
I should have known better.
I had one foot out the door, when he called my name. When he said the two words that changed everything.
I could barely hear it over the pounding of my heart, but when I looked over there was no mistaking the raw emotion behind the words. His eyes were red, and tears were streaming down his face. I tried to force myself to leave, but I couldn't.
I don't know what made me stay, or what make me take that one step back into his room, but I knew that whatever it was, it was something raw and real.
He looked away and wiped a tear from his eyes. "I'm sorry for hating you. I'm sorry for loving you." He reached for my hand. "I'm sorry for not talking to you. I'm sorry for not getting to know you." He wiped away one of my angry tears, making me only want to cry more. "And most of all, I'm sorry for breaking your heart."
Never have I wanted to kiss someone more than in that moment.
So I did.