It was my fourteenth birthday. I was cuddled up next to the girl who used to be my girlfriend. She hadn’t been my girlfriend since last summer technically, but something kept me glued to her. An invisible force made it impossible for me to give up hope. The situation we found ourselves in made me certain that there was hope. We were on the pull out sofa bed in my living room. We hid under the blanket spooning. I buried my face in the curve of her neck smelling her shampoo. My hand tentatively made its way up her shirt until my fingers touched the underwire in her bra.

“Can I?” I whispered in her ear. I waited for her head to nod then kissed her neck tenderly in thanks as my hand slipped under her bra to cup her breast. I bit my lip and grinded against her backside. My senses were on fire. I felt insanely lustful as I ran my thumb over her nipple. My heart vibrated my ribcage it was beating so hard. It felt like only seconds before her hand grabbed mine. I froze and raised up a little to look at her face. She had her eyes shut tightly and her lips pursed into a tight frown. The smile left my face as I pulled my hand out of her clothes.

I apologized because it seemed expected. “I’m sorry.” My voice was sad. I couldn’t hide it. A year later and every affectionate or passionate advance I made was met by rejection.

She twisted her upper torso enough to give me a brief kiss on the lips. Her smile was forced. “It’s ok. Happy birthday.” She settled back down and wrapped my arm around her waist. I let her pull me close.

“Thanks,” I mumbled turning my face away from her hair and staring blankly at the television. I paid no attention to the movie. Instead I listened to her breathe and wondered what I did wrong.