I'm Not Like That

Lying there with a girl I don't know sobbing gentle against me, staring at the ceiling and the lights dancing from the street outside. How did I get here? Most guys would have loved this situation, and most guys would have been easily swayed but this twenty year's old cries and heartfelt tears, mistaking passion for regret and uncertainty. As a nineteen year old myself, I'd had my share of emotional feedback and so could sympathies.

I wasn't at all happy with this situation tho. She was crying because her boyfriend had broken up with her earlier on tonight, and because I was the only sole at the party willing to listen and laugh at her jokes. She attached herself to me, trying to bring to her heart stability and control by using me, and playing with my emotions.

I was angry at her for doing this, but also sympathetic. I knew what she was going through, and not by experience, but by the ability to think through what her motives are and what her actions mean. I held her against me as I lay on her bed, being invited upstairs into her apartment and into her bedroom by her, telling me she was too drunk to navigate the halls without a steady hand, and a strong frame to lean on.

I was here because as I walked to my car after the party, I saw her standing out the front of the house, already having said goodbye to me, sobbing silently as she tried calling someone for a ride home. Annoyed at myself for helping her, I walked her to my car, into the passenger seat, and even drove her to her house, and walked her to her door.

She held herself close, her head resting on my shoulder as her right hand scrunched my shirt inside her fist, holding onto me tight as she shuddered, her breathe shaking as she fought herself from crying. Wriggling her feet around as she let pour tear after tear onto me, using my shirt to dry her eyes.

I had seen her lover at the start of the party, seen his eyes fill with puzzle and uncertainty every time he went to talk to her. She seemed so happy and bouncy before he took her aside and let go with what was on his chest. Leaving her to drink and laugh off what had been said. She was nice and offered to pour me a drink while she was at her 5th for the night, beginning a conversation without me even talking. A nod and a smile and suddenly she could confide in me, and rely on me to keep her company for the night.

She clenched her teeth and breathed through them shakily again, tightening her grip on my shirt as she sobbed over and over again. Rolling my eyes, I placed my left hand on her shoulder and squeezed, not knowing what else she needed. As I did this it almost made it worse, she began openly crying, really pouring out as the barrier she'd built finally collapsed, washed away with the tears the flowed.

"Sshhh" I hushed, blowing into her hair as she wrapped her right leg around mine, crying deeply now, trying desperately to bury her head in my shoulder. She wailed softly for a short time, before finally calming down and breathing deeply, still shaking but a lot calmer.

"Th – Thanks for being here fo – for me," she said, too loud to be a whisper, and to hoarse to be soft, but as quiet as a whisper, and as meaningful as a soft word. "I really needed this." She let go of my shirt and slid her right hand down my body, reaching my belt buckle before I could stop her. I grabbed her hand and held it, stopping her fingers from trying to unclasp my belt with my left hand.

"I'm not here for you Liz." My harsh voice stabbed at the room, filling the corners with a gruff and dry voice, not angry or vicious, but truthful. In fact I was here because I couldn't find a window in which to detach myself from her after I helped her out of my car. I was planning on just pulling up, watch her get out and close the door, then drive off, but she did need help getting out, and I didn't exactly feel it was nice just pushing her out.

She moved away from me, propping herself up on an elbow and loosening her grip on my hand, wiping the tears from her eyes franticly with her left hand. "Don't you like me?" her right leg moved against mine and I knew she had picked up enough resolve for me to be a bit more forceful without her falling to pieces.

Don't get me wrong, this girl was pretty by all means. Soft brown hair flowed down a sculpted frame, curves in the right places, sparkling eyes that said confident yet innocent, she could catch anybodies eyes if she wanted to. But I guess I wasn't just anyone.

Still holding her right hand, I lent over her, making her role onto her back with me on my side, moving again so my left leg was over her and the bed, my shoe making contact with the floor. She was Moaning slightly with the motion, probably thought I was going to push up against her body and show her, like every other feeble male out there, how much I 'liked' her.

Letting go of her hand and pushing against the bed I got up, standing next to the bed of a bewildered girl wondering what I was doing. Without a word, and after a short pause of looking her in the eyes, I patted down my rumpled shirt and turned to leave.

"Wait, where are you going?" Liz also got up off the bed, standing so she had the moving lights of cars emanating through the window onto half her face, making it hard for emotions to be read.

I had my hand curled around the door knob, feeling the cold metal against my rough skin. She really thought I had intended on making something of this with her? It became blatant that she didn't know me.

"I'm not your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend, and I'm not looking for a one night stand, so I'm going home Liz." Opening the door to the hallway, I walked out, moving along the soft carpet, making my way to the front door of her place.

"Can't you stay anyway?" She followed me out to the hallway, a hand lightly on her bedroom door frame. I stopped, head lowered and looking back over one shoulder, she looked like she was going to go right back to crying.

Her tears weren't for me, and I didn't feel sympathy for her emotions now. I wasn't her friend, nor did I know her in the slightest, and she wanted me to spend the night with her? Maybe she felt vulnerable and I was giving her some form of protection, or she just wanted to pretend like I was her boyfriend one last time. Either way I wasn't the man for the job.

"I'm not the cuddle up to type, Liz" I walked towards her front door again, determined to leave if she didn't talk again, not wanting to stay any longer than I had to. After all, she was looking for something that I couldn't provide, and even if I could, I didn't want to.

As I opened her front door and left, getting to my car out front and putting the keys in the ignition, I saw a car pull up behind me, a man stepping out and walking with some difficult to Lisa's front door, and entering without knocking. I'd seen him before, the one who'd spoiled Lisa's night before it started, her ex boyfriend.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, so tempted to just drive off and leave him to her or her to him, but the good side of me kicked in, telling me to at least check him out before leaving. I planned to do just that, see that he meant no harm and then leave.

Walking in, I could already hear Lisa crying, and knew that my short plans weren't going to eventuate. Moving through the hallway I heard moving in her bedroom, sheets ruffling, and a scarred girl crying and sobbing. Arriving at her bedroom door I saw him trying to take her shirt off, struggling against her tipsy flailing. He didn't seem sober, but obviously not drunk enough to lose motor function.

As I was Blocking the light from the other rooms, he turned to look at me, Lisa quickly scrambling into the corner of her bed away from him, raising her knees up, wide eyed as she watched us.

He moved towards me, a grin on his face. He probably thought I was just another man, thinking himself the noble hero here to claim the girl by proving his worth. He had too much confidence in the way he approached, walking with his shoulders square and his arms rose up like a fighter in the ring. I knew this dance wasn't going to end well, especially if he knew something about dancing.

"Stan, Don't!" Her sob of desperation was kind, but I didn't think about it at the time, as his smile seemed to grow as she said it. Moving quickly, taking two steps instead of one, he lunged with his left fist, hitting me in the cheek unexpectedly. As he made contact, I hit him in the gut, making him double over coughing. Tasting the blood of a cut lip against my teeth, I kicked him again in the gut, forcing him to his hands and knees, groaning in pain.

Through clenched teeth I bent down and grabbed his hair, bringing his head up so he could see my eyes, before I punched him across his cheek, forcing him to collapse to the ground unconscious. Slowly standing, mentally shaking off any adrenaline in my system, I put a hand to my cheek.

"Why did you do that?" Lisa had stopped crying by now, but still sat in a ball in the corner, huddled together on her bed.

"He deserved it." And I meant it, he was a fine piece of work and I don't know why she could grow so attached to him in the first place.

"No, I meant. Why did you come back?"

I paused, she'd caught me off guard, "I wasn't gonna leave him here with you." I bent down and draped Stan's unconscious body over my shoulder and walked out. She'd had enough trouble for one day, and it was only 1:30 in the morning.