This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/book “Question Everything” cc&d, v280 (the February 2018 issue) Order this as a 6"x9" paperback book:

The Only Moment We Were Alone

Tory Stosse

This girl is absolutely gorgeous; it’s too bad she’s straight.

∙  ∙

    I’m writing this to clear my head of everything that has happened from last April until now. My head is full of a million jumbled thoughts all crammed in like commuters of a morning train. Who knows if they’ll all sort themselves out. Maybe there will be a part two to come. Maybe not. It’s too soon to tell.
    I just got back from her room. No, don’t jump to conclusions. Nothing happened. More games, as one might expect, from the gamemaster herself. Back to the pushing and pulling, but a different kind.
    Tonight in a few sentences:
    - Tension in a room so thick even a steak knife can’t cut it.
    - “I stand by what I said last semester. I’m still so glad that we’ve gotten closer.”
    - “You looked hot last weekend. I mean, hotter than usual.”
    - “Why are you covering your face with your scarf?”
    - “It’s for the best. Trust me.”
    - Was it obvious I had the upper hand?
    - “Well no, I want to be Jim because I want Pam.”
    - “Well I want to be Pam because I want Jim.”
    - (An awkward silence followed by the covering of a face with a scarf)

∙  ∙

    I was laying on her floor with her head on my shoulder (which took some time to process in my mind due to the presence of alcohol) reminiscing about the past months. We met on a forgettable weekend at the end of our sophomore year of college, but our brief dance would stay in my mind as the beginning of our friendship. Our friendship was a crazy ride. Is. Was. Is.
    The initial moment our friendship blossomed was nothing special. It was a Sunday afternoon in late-April, where it was a little too chilly to wear short sleeves and shorts but people were optimistic. We were at a cookout outside of the campus coffee shop, the enticing smell of the gyros dancing around us, and a band no one had heard of but everyone seemed to enjoy was playing. The four of us got up to dance (read: the three of them dragged me up), and she grabbed my hands and we danced for a moment. I was dancing like I’d never walked before and I’m certain she noticed. But I’m also certain she didn’t notice my poor dancing skills were due to nerves. Would it have mattered?

∙  ∙

    Describe the most beautiful woman you have ever seen:
    Dark hair. Dark eyes that you can’t stare at for too long without falling in love. Darker than average complexion – a natural beauty. Full lips. An effortless sense of style. Her hugs are the type that make you want to kiss her. She’s just short enough to rest your chin on her head and so she can nestle her face into your upper chest, and it’s amazing she can’t hear your heart beat like an irregular thump in your chest ready to break out of your body.
    But I digress.

∙  ∙

    Our friendship began to take shape as the leaves started to change. It was wonderous how relationships could blossom as everything around us began to die.
    We were sitting on the grass outside of her dorm on a mid-September afternoon, telling each other about our current and past woes. Three days prior, I’d asked out a girl I’d been interested in. Four days prior, I’d found out that Abbey was not so straight after all, and began hoping things would fall apart with the other girl so things could come together with Abbey. Well. (Spoiler alert).
    Things fell apart with the other girl.
    Abbey’s definition of not so straight was as follows: making out with girls, drunk, back in high school and being afraid to face her feelings. More on that to come.
    Things coming together with Abbey? To be determined.
    “I’m glad we’ve gotten closer this semester,” she said to me as we lazed on the grass.
    The light from the setting sun struck her face as she spoke, making her skin glow, and I’d never seen anyone or anything so beautiful. My breath paused in my chest, stunned, mesmerized by her beauty. What were we talking about, again?

∙  ∙

    Ah, now back to the night where I had begun to reminisce. It was the night of my twentieth birthday, just a few days after that wonderful late-afternoon conversation. We had a party in my room, and all my friends wanted was for me to have fun. That’s a recipe for something, all right. Yes, my roommate and I had a party in our room. Yes, Abbey came. Yes, the party dissipated not long after it began and a few of us went party-hopping. Abbey was rather touchy all night, and I had imagined it was due to the alcohol. Alcohol did that to a person. It wasn’t a precursor of what was to come. Not a chance.
    “You should wear this dress, it’d look amazing on you,” she said prior to the party-hopping, pulling a peach colored dress out of my closet.
    I put the dress on. She looked me up and down with those eyes that if you stared into you would fall in love. I looked away. We left.
    At about midnight, Abbey, one of our friends, and I, left to go back to Abbey’s room because it was too early to go to bed, but we didn’t want to stay out any longer. At some point we lost our spontaneous ginger friend to God knows where, and so it was just the two of us in Abbey’s room. Insert potential troubles here.
    So there I was. Laying on Abbey’s floor with her head on my shoulder thinking about the night and the previous events of the recent past. During this time, we’d been venting to one another: me complaining about how the last person I had kissed was a boy, and she about what she wanted in her life. I told her she had to get in her head and figure out what she wanted right then and there. She shook her head and hid in my shoulder.
    “But my head is a scary place.”

∙  ∙

    Name one cliché movie scene:
    After a wild night, you’re back in a room with the girl of your dreams. She looks you in the eye. She tells you she wants to kiss you. You’re in disbelief – the girl of your dreams wants to kiss you? You must have fallen asleep. Right as you’re about to kiss, someone bursts into the room and you both burst out laughing. Laughing because of the irony. Laughing because of the timing. Laughing because you don’t know what else to do but laugh off the nerves.

∙  ∙

    Later, after our venting, in more sober states of mind, we picked out a movie to watch that I had never seen before. Abbey had grabbed us a couple pillows in attempt to make the floor more comfortable. While neither of us were watching the movie, she turned her head to look at me.
    “So, I have an idea. You can say no if you want to, it’s okay. But...” she paused. I couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol making the room start to spin and slow down time, or just the oncoming nausea. Or both. “I know how to kill both our problems with one stone. With who you last kissed and what I want, right now. With me kissing you...”
    What? I turned my head. My face grew hot. I took a moment to replay what she’d said in my head, and she had in fact said what I thought she’d said.
    “I mean, only if you want to,” I said, trying to seem cooler than I was.
    Abbey gave me a quizzical look, grinned, and shook her head. Fearing I had missed my opportunity, I took a deep breath to change my answer.
    The doorknob jiggled, interrupting the silence, and her roommate walked in as I was about to give my new answer.

∙  ∙

    Two days later I confronted Abbey. I wanted that kiss and nothing was going to stop me from getting it. Unless it was just the alcohol talking and she didn’t want to kiss me, or I chickened out, or the world exploded or something. Not much would stop me.
    As it turned out, Abbey had to stop by my room to grab the clothes I’d borrowed from when I spent the night on her floor. She walked in. My stomach was in my throat. When she was in my room the world did not explode, nor did I chicken out, nor did she not want to kiss me.
    (You know what they say: drunken words are sober thoughts.)
    “Well wait, before you go, I’d sort of like to know what it would have been like if Rachel hadn’t walked in.”

∙  ∙

    Describe the best kiss of your life:
    Soft, sensual, delicate, then becoming more and more passionate. The first touch of her lips on yours brought with it a shock you did not expect, followed by warm liquid spreading from your mouth up to your cheeks and brain and down and through your chest, fingertips, hips, thighs, and to your toes. It gave you a clarity you did not know existed. One that told you her kiss was the only one you wanted for the rest of your life.
    You know, there’s something about a would be drunken kiss that’s better when it’s sober.

∙  ∙

    “I feel like a kid again,” she said, giggling, after pulling away. She was grinning and blushing but I’m certain my face was redder. I bit my lip and she laughed and said, “The look on your face!”
    I didn’t know what look she was talking about but I had never felt as vulnerable as I did in that moment. The look on someone’s face after a kiss told you a lot about that person and what they were thinking.
    “I-I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” I said.
    “Oh? For how long?”
    “Just, for a while.”
    We talked for a minute and then she left to walk back to her dorm. Or, as she put it, blush all the way back to her dorm. I blushed my way back to my bed. I laid there with a pillow on my face replaying the kiss over and over in my head. In that moment, the only moment we were alone, I knew I was falling for her. Really falling. For the first time in my life. It couldn’t be more perfect.
    Until it wasn’t.

∙  ∙

    The next two and a half months described in words and fragments (because my life had turned into fragments):
    Avoiding. Ignoring. Not sure of what she wants. Hooks up with a guy. Continues to do so. Unsure of sexuality. Interpretation: uncomfortable with sexuality. Pushing and pulling and pulling and pushing. Games. Many mind games. Flirting. Still a game. Tries to be a friend but still a game. An hour long crying session in the car while listening to a song entitled Just Friends after seeing her and the aforementioned guy together. Confusion and depression. Depression.
    Aforementioned mind games:
    - She still claimed she didn’t know what she wants.
    - She didn’t want anything serious with anyone, not even with that guy.
    - Although they were inseparable.
    - “Just because things can’t happen now doesn’t mean they can’t in the future.”
    - A minimum of once a week stating we should hang out.
    - Hint: she’ll never follow through.
    - Flirting over dinner while I blocked out her voice.
    - ?

∙  ∙

    A winter break later and my life seemed to be less fragmented. We were friends. Were we friends? I hoped so because that was all I wanted while she and that guy were still “not a thing”, until they weren’t together. No more games, no more weird things. Just. Friends. At least until the following year, after that guy had graduated. That was a different story.
    Was life ever that clear cut, though? Nothing was ever that simple. Abbey was the queen of mind games and I was her favorite pawn. The game of push and pull was her favorite. Why not ignore me when we’re hanging out? It’s all fun and games. Why not out of the blue insist we spend more time together? Still fun and games.

∙  ∙

    Back to the present. Whatever the present is. The present doesn’t exist because the present is always the past and the future will always be the future. More digressions. Apologies.
    After tonight it feels like things are beginning to wind down, and return to normal. If there even is a normal. I feel in control. I feel like I have the power to make my own decisions. I am in control of my emotions. Maybe I will want something to happen when the time comes. Perhaps not. Only time can tell, but I know that the decision will be mine.
    A note: it feels good to have the upper hand. I’d recommend trying it on for size.

∙  ∙

    An objective afterthought:
    It still stings. I can’t help but feel bad. I’ve moved on but I can’t help but feel bad. I wish she would be more comfortable with herself. But maybe she never will be. I don’t remember what that’s like. It’s been so long since I felt that discomfort and I don’t remember what that’s like. I wish she would let herself be herself. For her own sake. I wish she would learn to be comfortable with herself. But maybe she never will be. I wish I could help. There’s nothing I can do to change that. It’s up to the person to learn to be comfortable with oneself. It comes from within. There’s nothing I can do to change that.

∙  ∙

    [The ending is to be determined for there is no ending yet. Maybe things will come together in the end (is there ever an end? Life still goes on. The universe keeps existing.), if they’re meant to be. Unless they’re not. Unless they are.]

    Part II

    It wasn’t the end.

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