A Bad Boy in my life

Thirty three

You'll be the saddest part of me
A part of me that will never be mine
It's obvious
Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

THE LONELIEST — Måneskin

Distance...

I couldn't blame her for wanting distance from me, but it still stung to hear her say those words. It's strange how even when you understand someone's reasons, it doesn't make the hurt any less real.

The hours spent on the bus felt like torture. Not only because of my claustrophobia, which always made enclosed spaces unbearable, but also because of the conflicting emotions that overwhelmed me. The familiarity of those emotions, having felt them during the outbound trip as well, only made things worse. I couldn't decide which was more agonizing: being next to her or being apart from her.

I intentionally chose a window seat on the bus, hoping that the fresh air would provide some solace amidst the confinement of the moving tin can. I arrived early to secure the seat, and it remained empty until Margo arrived and asked to switch places with me. I wouldn't have given up the seat for anyone else, but for her, it was different. I deduced that her reasons for wanting to sit there were more valid than mine.

Maybe after spending four consecutive hours in close proximity to me, the last thing she wanted was a few more minutes on the back of my motorcycle. Perhaps she preferred to retreat into her own thoughts and be alone.

As I watched her adjust her backpack and walk away with purposeful strides, it became evident that she did prefer solitude.

Curious onlookers observed us as though we were part of a public theater performance, and in a way, that's exactly what it felt like.

The sight of my motorcycle was the only thing that brought me a glimmer of happiness that day. Just the thought of riding it sent a shiver of anticipation through my body.

Before I could even lower my helmet and start the engine, I sensed someone's presence approaching from behind. A feminine voice, vibrant and alluring, spoke fervently:

"Have you ever heard the saying: 'If one doesn't want, there's someone who does'?"

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The velvety quality of her voice, irritatingly captivating, belonged to Ashley Barnes—the girl who sat four rows ahead of me in Social Studies class. I never paid much attention to her conversations, but her distinctive Philly accent was hard to miss. She often talked about her shopping sprees and how her parents allowed her to throw extravagant parties every weekend.

"Yes... Have you ever heard the saying: 'Wanting isn't always enough'?" I retorted.

"Well, I can't say I've heard that one often," she shrugged. "I'm used to getting what I want."

"Is that so?" I replied, my tone filled with skepticism.

"Yes," she chuckled mockingly. "Unlike your little companion, don't you think?"

My eyes burned with anger.

"What are you insinuating with that?"

"I'm simply suggesting that I don't understand what you see in that poor girl... but I can assure you, I have things that can interest you much more," she said convincingly, leaning in closer. "Come on, didn't you realize that hooker is just after your money?"

I couldn't find the words to respond. I silently watched her approach, crossing her arms and accentuating her curves.

Some actions only merit our silence.