Attached by Rebecca Dutsar
Out of all the boys that liked to swarm around you, asking you for coffee, you chose him. He sat in his room and played the most beautiful songs on his guitar thinking that nobody would listen. He had given you tea before, blankets, even, but this time he held your left hand as you drank it, right hand clutching the mug. People were talking behind you but you didn’t notice.
On the night you decided to make love for the first time, you were nervous. You didn’t want to get attached, not when you both swore over and over again that love was something that didn’t exist, but deep inside you knew it did. “But you already are,” he would say. “You bring me doughnuts every Sunday. That says it all.” He knew you were too scared to bring up the romance you felt lurking in the way your hands grazed over each other. Of course he knew, but made sure it was all okay, even seconds before as he knelt above you, waiting for the nod.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His words came in waves with the pulse of his body. You kissed him. He said it again. “I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t understand why he would apologize for drowning you with this affection. It was his first time. You were his first. He considered it a gift.
He laid back and motioned for you to come over. “Come closer,” he would always say. “I’ll keep you warm.” You rolled into his chest and embraced the sweat on his chest like a comfortable shower. Every memory of all the times you knew you loved him came to mind.
Again, he said, “Come closer, I’ll keep you warm,” and pulled you in tighter. You exhaled. He kept your heart on fire.
Rebecca Dutsar is a 20-year-old from Newtown, CT. Currently, she is a junior at Ithaca College where she is majoring in Writing. She is the Editor–in-Chief of a campus wide publication, The Mirror Magazine. She enjoys drinking tea while begging her friends to send her writing prompts. Find her on Twitter @beccsdutsar.