we laughed and danced in your car that still smelt of leather and old money, as the winding roads up the mountain became narrower with each turn. round and round we went to get to the top, i lost track of how many times we spiraled. the car coming down the opposite lane came a little too close, and we both inhaled semi-small, sharp breaths at the same time.
we go slower, and i check your blind spot for you. and that was kind of always how we were.
or at least, how i was for you.
i wouldn’t say i still had feelings for you, but more of a nostalgic yearning. i felt sick because of the way i still looked at you. wistful at how the story of us started with the end before it even began, but to you they were just a few words that never sounded good together in the first place. the girl in the backseat sighs, bored. your eyes dart to the rearview mirror where you steal another glance. your cologne is still the same as i remember. we get out of the car and climb the rest of the way. at the highest peak, i devour the fresh air, attempting to fill the gaping feeling in my chest. you ask her if she was having fun. i contemplate interrupting and asking you if we came here before, back when we were dating, but i bite my tongue and stare at the city lights in the distance instead. but I knew. i knew you once held my hand over this view and we made each other empty promises of nothing.
but after some time and a lot of breaths i ask you which one your house is and if we could see it from here, even though i overheard you telling her which apartment building it was and how the lights on it zigzagged diagonally. she didn’t care. you add her on facebook. i pretended i didn’t care.
it wouldn’t have been the first, nor second time i’d be losing you, but perhaps i don’t even know that much about you to really lose you anyway.
thank you, though, for that midnight adventure. it will be the last.
