Just That...

A look to the left. The clock reads 5:36pm. A look to the right. She looks at him for about a minute as he sleeps. He doesn't know she has sat up and is contemplating her escape. She wants to leave so bad, but she knows that once she gets up, so will he. He looks so peaceful. She can't help but to smile, but she knows that he is only going to wake up to ask her if she is ready to go. Why not beat him to the punch? She thinks that her leaving without him asking will hurt his feelings for some reason. Why does I care so much? is what she ask herself. The thought of going to the bathroom crossed her mind, so she went. She knew that if he heard the bathroom door close, he would go back to sleep and think nothing of it. As she stands in the bathroom, she starts to cry. The tears are silent, but she can't help it. They come from the feeling that this is going to be the rest of her life. The idea that she will never be taken seriously is embedded in her mind. The notion that she will only be good enough to fuck and occasionally be around is something she believes is inevitable. She wipes away her tears, flushes the toilet, and runs the water as if she actually did anything. She didn't want there to be any questions. She will never tell him about her hopes and dreams of getting married and having a family because they don't talk about that stuff. Yes, they know each other outside of the bedroom, but it is not enough for her. She can't take just being a fuck buddy even though this is the position that she has played for years. She loves to fuck, but she does have the plan for more. Six years since her last relationship. Four years since her last real date. Two years since she has gotten her own everything, and yet she still is without that person on her arm to do everything that she ask and love her the way she wants. Instead of looking, she settles for the little bit of affection that is given to her when he hugs against her body when they are finished. She looks forward to the little kisses on her neck and lips that he gives her when he sees her and starts to take her clothes off. She enjoys the brief conversations that they have from time to time about absolutely nothing. She refuses to have the conversation with him because she doesn't want to scare him off. Besides, there is no real feelings there. They are not even friends. They are just fucking."Get it together girl" is what she tells herself before she feels anything for him, but she can't help it. No, he ain't the only one that she lays next to, but he treats her the best. She's no side line bitch, but she is not the one and only to anyone, and that is what kills any good feeling that she has about being here. She looks at him in the bed, but she doesn't see herself rejoining him. She grabs her clothes. He starts to stir. She puts on her shoes. He sits up. She walks towards the door. He says her name. "I'll see you later" is all she says to him as she walks out and makes it to her car door. She rolls away, wiping away the tears as she gets further and further away from what she considers the closest thing she will ever have to a relationship. It freezes her heart to think that way. It burns her soul to believe any part of it. She knows it is nothing more than what it is. Her emotions are out of line. Down the expressway she goes, headed to her solitude to wait for that next call or text of somebody saying that they are in need. She vows to herself that she will have the family life that she wants...now all she has to do is make herself believe it...