You know what’s worse than losing love: it’s finding it and messing it up; doing the wrong things and making your lover leave you. That was I.

I did the wrong things, said the wrong things, and was the sneaky spiteful bitch that was lying in someone else’s arms who reeked of a mixture of brandy, cigar smoke and obscene sex when the man that cared for you was in some other room unaware of your infidelity.

I looked over at AJ as he snored, exhausted from our violent, tumultuous bouts of sex. He was not the man for me; a few doors away in this same hotel were the man for me. And I repaid him by lying in some other man’s arms. I don’t deserve love. And I certainly don’t deserve to have known someone quite as loving and giving of love as Lance. I had been away from love for so long, that I had detached myself completely from it, not knowing what it felt like and slowly I had become jaded.

I gently took his hands away from me and got up for a quick shower (to refresh from the stinky after sex stench) and to return to Lance’s room if possible, unnoticed and dainted.

I scrubbed my body forcefully, determined to get all the ooze of illicit sex away from it. I got to my legs and a huge hickey plastered on my left inner thigh greeted me…not good. My jaws hurt from all the thrusting inside it; I hoped I could still talk without a slur. This is awful, I hissed, bathing harder. “I’m sorry, Lance, I’m sorry Lance….” where the words that kept ringing in my head.

AJ heard, as I got dressed so he opened up one eye. “You going to get your clothes, Sweetie?” His voice was groggy and barely audible.

“No…em…I’m leaving,” I whispered, unsure of it even as I spoke.

He opened up his eyes a little bit more. “Oher, what did I do now?”
I knelt beside him on the bed, close enough to whisper in his ears. But instead of speaking I just sat there, and let the tears from my face explain on my behalf. What could I say: I’m leaving because I suddenly realized that I have a heart, and it just happens to be working. What could I say? I tormented.

Seeing them, AJ sat up on the bed, paying better attention to what was eating me inside.
“Have you ever loved someone AJ?” I asked, choked up.

He looked solemn and turning away from my peering eyes, he replied, “Hell yeah…once. Some chic called Amanda… and… it hurt like hell too. You can’t sleep, can’t think, can’t take a piss without thinking about ‘em.” He scratched at his chin, probably thinking of how it felt when he was in love.

I laughed sorrowfully at his explanation of the theory of love, with my tears still trickling. It sounded vaguely familiar to the one Lance had given to his friends a couple of hours ago, and to the way I had begun to feel about Lance. Nevertheless, I just couldn’t imagine coldhearted AJ falling in love; the images were incomprehensible.

He continued, “You deserve love, Nikki. I’m just sorry that I’m not the one to give it you. But if you do find it elsewhere, I wouldn’t want to be the one to keep you from it.”

I nodded, wiping off the tears from my face. He was right and I knew it too, deep down in the pit of my stomach, I knew it. And no matter how I tried to push it or force it, I could never get AJ to care for me the way Lance did. He did the best thing by letting me go.

He pulled me close to comfort my tears with a hug. I cried freely on his shoulders before I finally let go. I gave him frantic kisses of goodbye, picked up the rest of my clothes and headed for the door.

“I hope it works out for you, Nikki,” he called out as I opened the door. “Cos’ sometimes love doesn’t quite work out. But you’ll figure it out, somehow.” He forced a smile.
I thanked him by blowing a polite kiss and said a polite goodbye.