The Love Story of Kimmy & David (Chapter 2)

Are you still following along with my favorite couple?
Ready for Chapter 2?

(The prompt asked for a first person account of someone that annoys us, from their POV.)


Chapter 2

David’s Side 

I wake up holding Kimmy’s hand, annoyed that my heart has made a decision that my head hasn’t been able to all night. See normally I just ask her to go home. I watch her face fall as she becomes modest and pulls her clothes on, her eyes full of shame, while shooting daggers at me.

 They can put a man on the moon but they still haven’t found a gracious way to kick a woman out after sex.
Damn NASA.
I look at Kimmy, lost in sleep on my pillows.
Sweet, Kind, Sexy, Interesting Kimmy.
Yes, I do wonder what the hell I’m doing as I dispel the urge to just pull her closer to me, wake her up with my mouth and pull her body underneath mine to a repeat performance of last night. But if I do that there will be assumptions and expectations, forced smiles and unasked questions I could frankly do without. Instead I just sit up, stretch as quietly as I can and made my way through the room, careful not to wake Sleeping Beauty.
My hand brushes the pink blouse I practically ripped off her lost in lust hanging over the the foot-board, taking the memory that arouses me instead. Our jeans are entwined on the floor and because I like the look of that, I grab another pair and pull them on. I start walking toward the door pulling a T-shirt over my head when I trip over Kimmy’s purse.
I stifle a grunt and look down to all the spillage, a pulsing red light on her phone, indicating new messages. I resist the urge to pick it up and find out which of the other men she is currently dating, names she tries to casually drop into conversation, are wondering where she is.
Well, gentlemen, she’s satisfied and in my bed”.
Jealously isn’t normally an emotion I indulge in, but competition is.
My bed, I win.
Hey it’s not like I don’t care about this girl. I do.
She’s got the biggest heart of any person I know, actually pushing me to be a better person when she’s around. She’s sexy in a Catholic School girl way and many of my friends go between telling me she’s a great catch to offers of taking her off my hands if I’m sure ”she’s not the one”.
Jesus, it’s only been 4 months. It takes longer for a football team to make it to the Super Bowl. What’s the hurry?
Seriously, since we’ve met she’s made it her life’s work to be labeled “My girlfriend”, the thought flatters and disgusts me simultaneously. Mostly because the truth is that I love Kimmy, no not just when I’m coming, I love her as a friend.
I love the way she smiles and smells, the way she debates her favorite books and movies with me, how passionate she is about friggin everything. She is like a kid at Christmas all the time; joyful, hopeful, a true believer in magic. I love kissing her; she would tell you that I deny our chemistry, that’s bullshit. I never denied anything; I just think that chemistry isn’t  always enough. We kissed, she felt the thunderbolt, and I didn’t, I still haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop kissing her.
SO, yes I am aware that my behavior with her borders on mean. When I tell her that “we just aren’t right for each other” I know I pull the curtain back on the magic and I feel bad about that. I hate seeing her face collapse from the reality of those words. Because I also love the way she looks naked and its words like that make her take her smile and her shit and leave while asking teary questions like “what’s wrong with meeeee?”
“Nothing darlin,” I’ll want to say to her pretty blue eyes  “There is nothing wrong with you. How can I make you understand that I know we’re not right for each other?” I find it infuriating that I know this and she refuses to see it. I want her in my life and my bed, but she’s not getting my heart yet and she should really glad about it. It’s not the right place for a sweet girl like her.
But then I remember have a surprise for her, a sweet treat that should serve as a truce for today. I stopped for coffee last night and saw it sitting in the case, the decadent icing a precursor to that pink shirt she showed up in. I am willing to try with her; willing to admit that we could become something. I am going to ask her what she is doing this weekend, suggest going out of town. Yeah, I know that might lead to more expectations, but she might be worth it.
Hey maybe I’ll get the thunderbolt, if nothing else that would be progress.
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About Kir

Kirsten is a wife after years of dating, a mom after years of infertility & a lover of shoes, words, NYC and TV dramas. A storyteller and daydreamer at heart, this is the place where her stories come to be told. Thanks for visiting.


  1. Why to men fight us…. they all know we win in the end.
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