open and somehow, in the middle of this beautiful chaos, in the dark of night with her eyes so close to mine, I can see her clearly. And I get it.
The thing that I felt with the eyes… I can feel it again. That’s what this shit is. I need her in some fucked up way that I can’t understand or explain. It doesn’t make any kind of logical sense, and it scares the shit out of me.
In that moment , I pull out of her mouth and push her away from me. She stares at me with some level of confusion, her breaths heavy, her chest rising and falling with the effort. Her wet, pink lips hanging open, her turquoise eyes burrowing into mine like she can see straight into me. Like she knows me. “Fuck off,” I tell her before turning around and getting the hell out of there.
Chapter 1 - Jessa
On the drive with Dylan to Chicago I was already realizing that I had made a huge mistake. It could have been the way he sang along with the Ed Sheeran, Jason Mraz and John Mayer cds he played on a loop for six hours straight. Maybe it was the annoying way he kept both hands on the steering wheel at ten and two at all times. Or the way he talked excitedly about joining a fraternity and suggested that I join a sorority. That drive with Dylan made it blatantly clear that Dylan is not my kind of guy.
I kind of figured this would happen because it’s what always happens when you turn a fun, flirty, sexy relationship into a committed one. People get comfortable and the re al them emerges and you realize that when people stop trying so hard to be the person that you will want to belong to, that they aren’t who they were pretending to be. The Dylan that I was just screwing for more than nine months back in River Bluff sure as hell didn’t break out John Mayer on me.
What the hell was I thinking? After warding off relationships through all of my post-pubescent years I decide to, not only force myself into one, but then act like it was cool when Dylan decided to follow me to college in Chicago.
The whole point of coming to Chicago was to find my future and people who were like me, who would get me. A year ago when Chicago boy Paxton showed up in River Bluff and I saw so much of myself in him, I knew I had made the right decision. But then I left my home town with a piece of it still clinging to me.
Watching my friend Emily and her guy Danny; the way they managed to help each other through all of their shit and make each other better, did something to my brain. It made me want to be happy too and, in a moment of weakness, I decided Dylan would be the man to make it happen.
But Dylan is not the man to do that. No man is the man to do that. I know that. Men only make things complicated and confusing and force you to take your focus off of your real problems and make you focus on theirs. Or, more accurately, all of the new problems you have because of your relationship.
I need to let him go, I know I do. But how do I do that? How do I tell the guy that gave up his own plans and moved to a strange place for me that I no longer want him? That I, in fact, prefer he disappear from my life so I can leave my failed attempt at happiness in the distance.
It would help if I had a legitimate excuse, but I don’t. Not that I have any real experience in this department- Dylan’s my first real boyfriend. When I was fifteen, I stupidly thought I was in love, but he turned out to be the biggest asshole I’ve ever crossed paths with. Compared to that sleaze bag, Dylan is the ideal boyfriend. He’s nothing but sweet to me. He’s attentive – way too attentive. He’s everything a perfect boyfriend should be. And we do everything a perfectly boring couple does. Parties aren’t fun because I’m suddenly a possession that Dylan needs to be attached to at all times. I’ve seen every new release at the theatre and eaten at every restaurant within twenty miles of campus because… what the hell else is there to do with your boyfriend on
The thing that I felt with the eyes… I can feel it again. That’s what this shit is. I need her in some fucked up way that I can’t understand or explain. It doesn’t make any kind of logical sense, and it scares the shit out of me.
In that moment , I pull out of her mouth and push her away from me. She stares at me with some level of confusion, her breaths heavy, her chest rising and falling with the effort. Her wet, pink lips hanging open, her turquoise eyes burrowing into mine like she can see straight into me. Like she knows me. “Fuck off,” I tell her before turning around and getting the hell out of there.
Chapter 1 - Jessa
On the drive with Dylan to Chicago I was already realizing that I had made a huge mistake. It could have been the way he sang along with the Ed Sheeran, Jason Mraz and John Mayer cds he played on a loop for six hours straight. Maybe it was the annoying way he kept both hands on the steering wheel at ten and two at all times. Or the way he talked excitedly about joining a fraternity and suggested that I join a sorority. That drive with Dylan made it blatantly clear that Dylan is not my kind of guy.
I kind of figured this would happen because it’s what always happens when you turn a fun, flirty, sexy relationship into a committed one. People get comfortable and the re al them emerges and you realize that when people stop trying so hard to be the person that you will want to belong to, that they aren’t who they were pretending to be. The Dylan that I was just screwing for more than nine months back in River Bluff sure as hell didn’t break out John Mayer on me.
What the hell was I thinking? After warding off relationships through all of my post-pubescent years I decide to, not only force myself into one, but then act like it was cool when Dylan decided to follow me to college in Chicago.
The whole point of coming to Chicago was to find my future and people who were like me, who would get me. A year ago when Chicago boy Paxton showed up in River Bluff and I saw so much of myself in him, I knew I had made the right decision. But then I left my home town with a piece of it still clinging to me.
Watching my friend Emily and her guy Danny; the way they managed to help each other through all of their shit and make each other better, did something to my brain. It made me want to be happy too and, in a moment of weakness, I decided Dylan would be the man to make it happen.
But Dylan is not the man to do that. No man is the man to do that. I know that. Men only make things complicated and confusing and force you to take your focus off of your real problems and make you focus on theirs. Or, more accurately, all of the new problems you have because of your relationship.
I need to let him go, I know I do. But how do I do that? How do I tell the guy that gave up his own plans and moved to a strange place for me that I no longer want him? That I, in fact, prefer he disappear from my life so I can leave my failed attempt at happiness in the distance.
It would help if I had a legitimate excuse, but I don’t. Not that I have any real experience in this department- Dylan’s my first real boyfriend. When I was fifteen, I stupidly thought I was in love, but he turned out to be the biggest asshole I’ve ever crossed paths with. Compared to that sleaze bag, Dylan is the ideal boyfriend. He’s nothing but sweet to me. He’s attentive – way too attentive. He’s everything a perfect boyfriend should be. And we do everything a perfectly boring couple does. Parties aren’t fun because I’m suddenly a possession that Dylan needs to be attached to at all times. I’ve seen every new release at the theatre and eaten at every restaurant within twenty miles of campus because… what the hell else is there to do with your boyfriend on
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