In Love With You — A Short Story

Photo by Alexandre Boucey on Unsplash

I sit here and stare at you all day, and you don’t know that I do. You tap away at your computer and answer the phone, existing in a world of your own. I’ve come to know your every mood, what every expression means. I know that when you’re frustrated you press your teeth into your bottom lip. I know that when you’re happy you smile in a way that heats me up. I know that you tap your pencil on the desk when you’re waiting to go home.

Lunch time is my favourite part of the day because I can watch you for up to forty-five minutes without interruption. You like to eat at Luigi’s. Now I eat there too. Sometimes you smile and wave in my direction. I always pretend that smile and wave are for me. I love the way you eat. I wish I could be the pasta wrapped around your fork so I could feel your sweet lips on me for just one moment.

I’m in love with you. That’s the truth. I love everything you say and everything you do. I want to be with you, to love you, to have you as my own, to worship your every move. I need to be close to you — to hear your heartbeat and hear your blood coursing through your veins. I want to tongue the pulse in your neck. I want to kiss every inch of you and love you over and over again.

At night I follow you home to make sure you get there safely. I hate that you leave work so late. You don’t know who’s out there, my darling. The streets aren’t safe anymore. And yes, I’ve seen the photo of Her on your desk. I hate that you go home to her, that you want her, that you love her every night in a way you don’t love me. It’s killing me. I want to die; curl up in a corner and die. Would you notice?

I watch you make love to her every night, my nose pressed against the cold window. You should really ask me in out of the cold. I watch the way you stroke her skin and the way you tenderly touch her breasts. I watch the way you taste her, all the way to her core. I see the way you make her burn for you and how she wraps her legs tight around your body, your thrusts met by the rising of her hips. You make love to her when you could be making love to me, having me, holding me.

That’s going to change. Tonight. I refuse to stand outside and watch you make love to her one more time. She must go, and I’m going to tell her so. You belong to me, forever and always. Tonight, I’m going to make you all mine and we will never ever be apart again. You’ll never be lonely, my darling. I promise.

I’m knocking at your door now. Can’t you hear me? Ah yes, here you come now. Who am I? I’m your soul mate. And I sit next to you at work. Now you remember me. No, I haven’t been stalking you. What am I doing here? I love you. We’re meant to be together. I don’t know you? You’re wrong. I know your every mood. I know what your every expression means. I’m scaring you? You want me to leave? No, I can’t do that. It’s my turn to love you now.

Damn it, here She comes. This just won’t do. I need you like the air that I breathe. I cannot go on any longer pretending that I don’t. We are soul mates. I feel it. No, I won’t leave. Not until I get what I want, and what I want is you. I am perfectly sane. She is telling me to leave now. I’m not welcome and neither are my advances? You’re choosing her over me? You can’t love her. You need to love me. We are meant to be together, and we will be, my darling. No, I won’t put the gun away. We’ll never be apart again.

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Romance writer. Fiction publisher. I serialize books on various platforms. Aussie gal, mum, and wife. New to podcasting, paid newsletters, and personal essays.

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Elle Fielding

Elle Fielding

Romance writer. Fiction publisher. I serialize books on various platforms. Aussie gal, mum, and wife. New to podcasting, paid newsletters, and personal essays.

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