So I’ve been writing about this “Friday Night” of mine for over a week now and it’s taken up seven (?) posts so far! Sorry about that. I’m still relatively new to blogging and I started out having really LONG posts, not realizing that people don’t actually have the time to read long posts. Now I find that I myself usually only read posts under ~550 words. And hence the need to split up my writing into sections.
I will finish telling you about Friday night, whether or not anyone cares, as therapy for me, if nothing else. And because I like to write:
Morgan suggested watching a movie on Netflix, but we were worried that my mom would see Viros’ screen light from the hall. So the brilliant idea was to watch the show under the covers. We nestled close together, putting Viros on our bent knees, sharing earphones. Honestly I couldn’t even tell you which movie we picked. I was so nervous, so hypersensitive to every movement Morgan made, that I couldn’t concentrate on anything, except him. And I was also feeling ticklish. Whenever Morgan said something, near my ear (the one without an earphone in it) I’d recoil and lean away from him.
Anyway, even with the entertainment (movie) right before me I still found myself daydreaming (a bad habit of mine) and my mind wandering elsewhere. I imagined us on a hot summer night, away from all this constant snow and cold, in a tropical place where it gets so hot your clothes stick to your body. I could just see it, me wearing a tank top and jean shorts, looking lovely, barefoot in the sand by the infinite expanse of the ocean. Morgan, wearing swim shorts, his hair wavy in the humidity. Me running my fingers through his hair…
Then suddenly it was way too stuffy under the covers.
I couldn’t breathe. So I threw the blanket off of us, messing up Morgan’s hair in the process (in the cutest way ever).
“Too warm?” He asked, laughing.
I nodded and he moved a strand of my hair, that was matted to my cheek, away from my eyes and tucked it behind my ear. When he touched me I closed my eyes, involuntarily, and when I opened them again Morgan was looking at me, questioningly, like he was wondering… and then he looked at my lips. I held my breath, and he looked back to my eyes, like he was checking to see if I was thinking the same thing he was thinking. And I was. He leaned in and closed his eyes, I closed mine, and finally he kissed me, hesitantly at first, but when I didn’t pull away he lightly pushed his lips to mine,
And I cried
Cuz my stories always end with a kiss
And I was just writing a story, again (sorry)
For no one,
I don’t even care if it disappoints anyone that I made it up,
Cuz no one could be more disappointed about it than me.
Morgan isn’t DC. I don’t know who DC is, in fact he got tired of me months ago and we’ve stopped chatting.
The real Morgan doesn’t look at me at all,
I wish he did, and that he was here, to hold me and comfort me,
But he’s not.
My mom has been gone since reading week,
It looks like this post is getting too long,