Anna was going to stay with me for a month, but that month turned into two. Then three. Now the new year was approaching, and she had not left yet. I did not care, of course, as I was madly in dear with her, but the dubiousness had consumed me. Was she a roomy ? admirer ? Lover ? Thomas More ?

The clock time to have"the talk"was that start week, after she blew me twice. But we did not. She blew me a few More clock time, and I ate her out, and yet we never really discussed the details of our relationship. Anna did not seem to mind - she clearly did not want it defined - and I pretended not to as well, though it killed me.

Then the window closed. She met Baron Clive of Plassey at a swap meet in early November. They went on a date. Then two. Then three. Soon she was no yearner sleeping in my bed, and we were certainly not fooling around. She did not even come dwelling a few nighttime a week. Fucking Clive.

We'd still hang out, and she'd say things like,"God, you're such a great guy. You deserve to meet someone."It killed me. I DID deserve it, she was right. And I had met her. Unfortunately, she had met Robert Clive. Fucking Clive.

By December she was talking about finalizing the divorce from her married man and finding her own station in the new year. She was very clear that she felt like she was a burden to me, and that she"owed it to me"to get out. I was JUST as realise that I didn't forethought. But I knew it wasn't really about me. It was about her. And fucking Clive.

I felt like I had a slam at Christmastide. Baron Clive of Plassey was going to his parent's nursing home in Colorado. Anna was driving to meet him on Dec. 26, but she had no architectural plan for Yuletide day. I blew my own parents off and pretended I, too, had nothing to do. I suggested we stay in and fuddle wine and watch TV. She agreed.

I knew the gift I got her was significant. I mean, just getting her a nowadays was not enough. I needed a statement. There's a difference between a acquaintance natural endowment and a lover endowment. I wanted to get her a buff gift. I wanted a fucking message to be sent in big, sheer, capital, thank-the-baby-Jesus letters. No doubt. No confusion.

I got her a pair of adamant earrings. It was the kind of thing she'd never get herself. I wrote a spoken language, too. I had facts on how long it takes a baseball field to be formed, and how forethought and precision and fortune had to be exactly right for it to take place. It was a miracle, really. And just as miraculous, I segued, was how a great deal she meant to me. I explained that I had loved her for most of my lifespan, and I wanted to show her how special she was. I had this memorized and tucked in my pocket, in casing I stumbled. It was my moment. I didn't want it to go wrong.

BBBBUUUTTTTT … just in vitrine, you know, I got a safety gift : Warm socks.

So on Christmas day, we were finished with bottleful two. She got that happy-kid grin on her look and said she had gotten me a show. I told her I had gotten her one, too. She asked if I wanted it now. I said yes. She smiled big and popped up and ran in her elbow room. She was giddy. I grabbed her two gifts and put them behind my back, under the cushion, almost certain I would give her the lover gift, BBBBUUUTTTT … just in case, I put the wind cone back there, too.

quintuplet minutes later, she came back to the living elbow room, tears streaking down her face. Clive had hidden a little envelop box in her nightstand. She had just found it. It was a pair of lovely ball field earrings. She glided around the room, calling him on her prison cell to tell him how much she loved them. I swallowed my tongue. FUCKING CLIVE.

I opened my giving : A $ 40 gift add-in to GameStop. I gave her the socks. I had lost the fight, the battle and the war.

***

I had very specific plans for New Year's Eve : I was going to drink heavily. This is how heavily : I went to the liquor computer memory and bought a twenty percent of vodka. As I was about to check out, I looked at the 70-proof bottle of cheap hooch and though,"Hmm, is this decent ?"I bought two. And I don't even salute vodka.

I really wanted to black out before Ryan Seacrest showed his fucking tanned face on the screen. Robert Clive looked a bit like Seacrest. blond hair. Highlights. short circuit. Perfect smiling. Extremely nice and polite and charming and funny. He had always been sugared to me. A real gentleman, actually. I hated that guy.

I poured myself a large glass of liquid state poison. When I say I am not a vodka guy, I mean that. I never drank it straight. It smelled like rubbing alcohol. Still, I had a destructive streak that was pointing right at my liver and tummy. I tried to disregard the smell and took a big gulp.

My gullet was still burning when my cell rang. It was 8:03 p.m. I thought about ignoring it, but I glanced at the caller ID. Anna.

"Hello ?"

"Is this a bad time ?"she asked. She sounded distant.

"No. Why ? You OK ?"

"Um …"her phonation cracked. I could separate she was choking back bout."I, uh. Are you family ? Are you out ?"

"I'm home. What's up Anna ?"

"Could you … pick me up ? I mean, I hate to ask. It's just. Clive he, uh … we had a fight. You know ? I just need to get home and I left my debit lineup at rest home and I can't get a cab and I don't have anyone …"

"No, shh. Look, it's cool. Where are you ? I will leave now."

***

Anna did not talk much on the way home, just a few thank yous. By the time we got back to the flat, it was a slight after 10. She looked stunning, even with her composition running down her cheeks. Her miserly commons apparel hugged her curvature. I felt dress down, what with my jean and a t-shirt.

She went back to her room, only to reemerge a minuscule before 12. Her haircloth was up, makeup off. She wore her cow PJs and a tight T. I wanted to kiss her. It was the outfit she wore the second nighttime we were together.

She sat down beside me on the couch. She had a wine glass in her hand and motioned toward my bottle of vodka, which I had not touched since we had gotten back."May I ?"

She filled her glass up and sank back, her feet curled under her. Her eyes were red, but she was no tenacious crying.

"Do you want to talk ?"I asked.

"No,"she said."Yes. Maybe. God. You probably think I'm such a jazz idiot."

"No. No I don't. I won't."

"First my hubby, now Clive. I must suffer a particular attractor to assholes."

"What did he do ?"

"It turns out he wasn't visiting his parents in Centennial State over the weekend … but his wife. She called when he was in the lavatory, and I picked up his cell. She was as storm to found out about me as I was to found out about her."

"Wow,"I said.

"Yeah, well. Anyway, when he got back, I confronted him and he had the nerve to get mad at ME for ‘ snooping.'He left me there at the club. No money. No ride. Fucking Clive."

She slipped slowly at her deglutition, grimacing with every swallow.

"And the thing is … I KNEW it. I knew he was a lying Snake. I sensed it. I tried to jam it out. There was just something so … fake about him. I don't know. Something bastard. God."

"He looked like Ryan Seacrest."

Anna looked at me. sort of stared. Then a snort. Then a full jape. I started laughing, too. She spilt a little of her deglutition on herself and laughed More. We were both double up over.

"God,"she said, wiping the weeping away."You are right. I was dating Ryan Seacrest ! I am such an idiot. Jesus."

"Anna, you are being too hard on yourself …"

"Stop."

"I mean it. Look, you WANT to have it off soul. You want to so badly that you ignore the bad affair. There are risky qualities."

"Like what ?"

"Like NOT wanting love. Like being closed off. Like giving up on hope and fortune and all that other faerie tarradiddle stuff. Listen, you should never be ashamed about your desire to be happy and to require the best in others. We live in a misanthropical humanity. We need Sir Thomas More ‘ you,'LE ‘ them.'”

She smiled and curled up beside me, resting her head on my shoulder."You are a honorable friend,"she said. My core sank. I was such a sucker. It was five till midnight.

We watched clip Square on TV in silence, Anna taking the casual sip from her wine spyglass. Her header stayed on my shoulder. We watched the countdown, the happy faces screaming and shouting. When the clock ticked one endorsement, Anna turned and gently grabbed my head, kissing me, tenderly. I had kissed her before, but nothing was like this. It was sweet and gentle and mob with meaning. For me.

She pulled away and bit her lip, her mitt caressing my cheek. She put down her wine looking glass and started to move, straddling me.

"No,"I said, jumping up and hopping across the room."No. No."

"What's wrongly ?"she asked.

"You can't do that."

"Sorry."

"It's not fair."

"What ?"

"THAT. Again."

"What ? Kiss you ? I thought you liked that ? We're friends. It's OK …"

"nooky Anna. We are NOT friends. We're not. I mean, we are. But … you HAVE to know I love you, right ? I mean, you are a sassy girl. You are fucking brilliant. You KNOW I love you. I've never said it, but you know. You know !"

"Tom …"

"Don't say it, Anna. Don't say we're friends. I can't take it."

bout were in her oculus again. I couldn't feel at her. I felt myself welling up."But we are."

"Why, Anna ? Why Baron Clive of Plassey and all the others but not me ? Huh ? Why not me ? You want someone to have it away you and treat you right and be there for you ? It's me. It has always been ME."

Anna took another sip of her vodka, running her hand through her fuzz and pinning it back. I looked at her, briefly. I could not nourish a gaze. I was embarrassed at my emotions. I was afraid I had changed everything.

"I know you bed me,"she said."I'm not blind."

"Then why ? Huh ? Why not me ? Why not us ?"

"I can't …"

"Fuck, Anna. You can. You owe me an explanation."

"Tom …"

"You have never been afraid to say what you feel. Don't start now."

"I guess I was afraid that if I lost you, then I would have no one left. And I am selfish. OK ? I am the asshole."

I moved to her, sinking on the couch. I folded my work force across my chest.

"Anna, you ARE going to drop off me. I am not doing this anymore. I need you in my life, but I can't sit back and watch you date guy after guy. Marry them. Then come to me with your trouble. I can't. I know I can be the man for you. I know I can give you what you want. And I can't sit back and watch this parade of unsuccessful person. I can't be your safety net."

"I know."

I covered my eyes with my paw, rubbing them. I had not cried since Tommy Craig punched me in the nose in eighth grade. I brushed the hair back, off my forehead. It felt weighed down in the room.

"I am pitiful to do this tonight, Anna."

"No …"

"I could've waited."

"Don't apologize. I should."

Anna reached out, taking my manus again. She pulled it to her chest, against her heart. I turned to look at her."Kiss me,"she said."Kiss me. Let's figure the quietus out later. I promise. I want this. Please ?"

I swallowed hard. Anna was a methadon. She hated pain in people. I wasn't indisputable if this was real or her way of healing a wound. But I was weak. I leaned in and kissed her.

I have had sex stack, but I am not sure I had ever made love to someone. I had never connected with person on a primal floor. But I did with Anna that night. It was appease and raw and emotional. On my couch. As Ryan Seacrest spoke in the background.

I stripped her clothes off and gazed at her, drinking her in. She gently stroked my cock as I wrapped her legs around me. I eased into her, slipping my branch around her waist so I could deplumate her tight against me. It was the beginning meter I had been completely inside of her. I tried to make the mo last.

Our physical structure responded to each other. When she thrusted, I pumped. When I pumped, she squeezed. Her lips never left mine. I could taste the common salt from her tears on her mouth. Her spit was fast-growing but soothing. When she came, she sank her nails into my back and kissed me unvoiced. She said my public figure and I froze inside of her, fucking her gently as she rose and fell.

I was closed. I asked her where she wanted me to cum. She said inside of her. She said she was on the pill. I looked at her as I got close, pulling my head back so I could see her eyes. She stared back. We connected. I smiled slightly. So did she. A grin of recognition. I kissed her as I came, my pecker exploding into the abyss of happiness and contentment.

Afterwards, we lay on my sofa, wrapped in a blanket. Her leg wrapped around mine, her head on my bureau and her fingers playfully running through my hair.

"I think this change everything,"she said, looking up at me.

"I am OK with that,"I said, still not fully able-bodied to look at her."Are you ?"

She smiled."Yes,"she said.

"And I'm sorry,"she said, a few seconds later.

"Why ?"

"I was selfish. I was a bad friend."

I smiled, my mind raced. I squeezed her and pulled her tight."It's OK,"I said .