And Suddenly That Name
Email Pilar: ( [email protected]
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Disclaimer: Ummmm... Duh, unless I've woken up Jason Katims (and I don't think so, still no penis...) I own nothing except my own words.
Rating: PG-13, for language.
Feedback: Let me know what you think, I'm always open to critique whether it be
good or bad.
Maria... Maria... What am I going to do with this girl? I can't get her out of
my mind. I can't get her out of my life. I want her, but I can't hurt her. None
of this is very fair. Max was right, we can't get involved with people, we can
only hurt them. But, then, why is it that she's gotten so deeply under my skin?
I don't even really like her, I keep telling myself. It's only physical, I keep
hearing bounce between my ears, even though I know that's not really the truth.
The truth is, she sets me on fire and it's hotter than this warm air that's
blowing around Roswell.
I keep seeing her face when I told her that it was over, that look that crossed
her eyes when I turned away and said that I don't get involved. I know she was
going to cry, and man, I'm glad I didn't have to see it. It was exactly what I
was afraid of in the first place. But not seeing it doesn't mean shit, I know
that I hurt her. I didn't want to hurt her. I wanted to run after her and tell
her immediately that I didn't mean it. That I had made a mistake. A grave error.
But I can't. I feel flaccid, weak, I'm hopeless with this crap. Can't she see
that I'm not the person that she needs? I'll never be that person. The person
that she should be with, the man who's lips deserve to cover hers, should be
someone who can love her and take care of her. Not someone like me. Not me.
Her lips. Her full, strawberry-glossed, pouty lips. I can taste the remainder of
them on mine still, and I want to go to her. I want her to scream at me like I
should have let her at that damn rave and not turned away from her and cut her
off. I want her to go for me in anger, so I can catch her hands with mine and
pull her to me again. To lift her body to mine and press it against me, to feel
her heart beating beneath my chest. To taste those sweet lips between mine and
to-- this is so wrong. To even want her is wrong, and I shouldn't have let it
get as far as it did. I should have let her alone and left it at that one kiss,
before we'd moved past one lust-filled advance to groping against the Crashdown
counters.
I see myself that night; sitting in my bedroom, the sweat dripping down my chest
before I went outside to get some air. I walked past Hank, drunk off his ass in
front of our only fan, and sat on the trailer steps, the air so hot against my
skin when I needed it to cool me, my head swimming with illicit images of her.
Like a dream almost, minutes later, I was in front of the Crashdown, staring at
her hungrily through the glass. It's all my fault. If I'd been strong enough to
just go back inside my room and relieve myself of the thoughts on my own, I
wouldn't have brought us to this moment at all. And I wouldn't have had to hurt
her. It was too intense for both of us. What is it about sexual attraction that
makes you do such stupid shit?
The halls of school will never be the same, the Crashdown will never be the
same, I'll never be able to look at an upside-down ketchup bottle without
thinking of her tight body in my arms as I effortlessly lifted her to the
counter, her legs wrapped around my back as I tasted the salty sweat from above
her lip. I look at my hands and I picture her skin beneath my fingers, her
ribcage rippling under my touch, her body completely responding to me. The taste
of her skin between my teeth. Part of the excitement was how she responded to
me, it was unexpected and perfect and amazing. No one has ever made me feel so
in control and uncontrollable.
She'll never look at me again, I suppose. And it's probably a good thing, too,
because I still want to drag her into every dark, secluded place and ravage her
entire body with my hands and my lips. We've already gone too far to come back,
and I've already screwed everything up anyway. But what else is new? I've always
screwed everything up. Why should this be any different?
She thinks it's her. She thinks it's that I don't want to be with her. She
couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is, it's always been more than
just a kiss, from the first time I caught her lips in mine and felt her hand go
around my neck. It's been way more than just a simple kiss. And as much as I
honestly wish that I could wave a hand and take back everything I said to her at
the party, I know it's for the best. I can't let her inside of me, I can't allow
her to know any more than she already does, and I can't fall in love. I can't
fall in love. I wish my touch could heal her heart the way Max healed Liz from
the bullet, making all of this come colliding down on all of us.
I want to be that man for her. I want to be able to give to her the things that
eventually someone else will. But, I'll never be that man, because I'm not a
man. I'm a fucking alien, from god only knows where, and god only knows what
that really means. Right now, the only thing I can come up with is that it means
that I am destined to be alone, with just Max and Isabel to lean on. There will
never be a woman in my life that I can be with entirely and wholly, and I'll
never be capable of anything more intense than a roll in the fucking hay, as
much as my nearly empty heart can't stand the idea of that. I will never have a
"soul mate", I will never have "true love". I have to push everything else out,
and realize that anything beyond the surface is impossible. I only have to look
at Max's control to know where I need to keep myself. Outside.
This had better be worth it.
THE END.