sounds great, I’ll see you then. I love you,” I finished.
“I love you, too. Dream of me.”
“I always do.”
Setting the phone down on my bed, I bit my lip. What’s the deal? Do I care about Kyle? I was sure that I didn’t care for him the way I cared for Jensen, but part of me still ached, and every time I interacted with him the wound he left would begin to hurt again. I needed to think this over and get my head on straight.
Turning off all but one light by my nightstand, I walked over to the stereo and put in Enya’s Watermark CD into the player. Her music was the best to listen to whenever I needed to think. I then turned off the light on my nightstand, crawled under my covers, and stared up at the ceiling. Occasionally, a passing car would cast its headlights through my window, causing shadows to dance on the ceiling while I replayed my interaction with Kyle in my head over and over again. When I couldn’t pick it apart to decipher any longer, I began to analyze my conversation with Jensen. Did I hurt his feelings? Could he tell I might have been lying about my feelings for Kyle? Did he still care about Alyna?
Eventually, I fell asleep, but my dream wasn’t without drama. It was of me standing on the outside of a triangular mess of Kyle, Jensen, and Alyna, wishing that someone cared how I felt. The dream was exhausting, and I awoke the next morning mentally drained.
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