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Someone once said that when it hurts to look back, and you’re scared to look ahead, you can look beside you and your best friend will be there. Isn’t that the best feeling in the world…to know that someone will always be there? The bond is impenetrable. It’s one soul that inhabits two bodies. It’s like a marriage when you think about it. Through thick and thin, through better and worse, in sickness and health….well, you get the point. We met in the third grade when my dad, a successful financial advisor, was transferred from his job in our hometown in Northern Ontario. I was 9 years old, and the news that we would be moving 1,500 miles away seemed like the end of the world. My mom had died in a car accident when I was 4, and the thought of leaving the house that her and my dad had built together when they were first married made my chest hurt. I didn’t want things to be different. Of course, with 9-year-olds, nothing is ever set in stone. It took about six weeks (and plenty of fishing trips) but my dad finally convinced me that this was a good thing. He would be making a better salary, we would be in a city that was always warm — so I could go swimming and fishing and camping any time of the year. He told me that I would make new friends and that just because we were leaving our small Canadian city, we would never leave our memories of mom behind. I knew my heart wasn’t really in it, but I loved my dad and trusted his decision. I smiled politely and prepared my semi-broken heart to move to Texas. He was in my class. I will never forget the way he looked the first moment I saw him. He wore a faded pair of denim shorts, a yellow and red striped t-shirt and scuffed-up Power Ranger sneakers. He was a little chubby, and even when you’re 9, girls tend to be judgmental. He wore his sandy blond hair shaggy around his freckled face, almost but not quite hiding his big chocolate brown puppy dog eyes. The only seat left in Miss Felice’s class was the desk right beside his at the back of the room. After that first day we pretty much inseparable. His name was John Callahan, and although a little shy, he opened up to me pretty quickly. He lived on a big farm with his mom and he was an only child — just like me. He told me that his daddy was a soldier and had died while on mission two years earler. Somehow that made me feel closer to him because he had lost one of his parents too. We could talk about our memories of our lost parents often, and it was a good feeling to know that we had this mutual tie to one another. It turned out we only lived a few miles away from one another, so we spent most days after school and weekends together. I usually ended up riding my bike to his farm because my dad would be busy working at home from his office, and it got boring listening to him tinkering away on his computer all the time. His mama was a sweet lady — she always packed us sandwiches and pudding cups to take down to the swimming hole that lay on the edge of their property. We would spend as much time as possible there swimming, fishing, and exploring. When we got a little older and could stay out past dark, John would sit down by the shore under an old weeping willow tree. He always made a spot for me, and we would look up at the stars together and share our thoughts and dreams and hopes for the future. We always knew that whatever happened, we’d be together, taking on the world side by side. John’s extended family of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents would come down every few months for a long weekend, and it was always a great occasion. John’s face would light up like a Christmas tree when he found out his family was coming down for a visit. I always thought that John would want to spend as much time as possible alone with his family, as these visits were few and far between, but I was never left out. He would ride his bike over to my small house with a huge grin on his chubby face and beg me to join his family for dinner — followed by a waffle cone at the local ice cream parlor. At first I felt like an outsider, sitting down in the warm familiar kitchen at John’s and saying grace Escort Küçükyalı with his family. After I got over the nervousness of being around such a large group of people, it felt pretty darn good to be a part of something so special. They always made me feel welcome and when I asked John why he wanted me there, he gave me an odd look but put it very simply — I was a part of his family, so I should always be there too because it wouldn’t be the same. I think that was the moment John stole my young heart. We had a lot of ups and downs together once we hit high school. He hit a growth spurt in the ninth grade and all of a sudden girls seemed to take notice of a once shy, chubby boy. By our last year of high school John had transformed into the most beautiful boy in school. He stood tall at 6’4″ and his baby fat had turned into a whole lot of lean muscle with wide shoulders and strong hands. He was still a simple boy who wore loose fitting t-shirts and jeans, but even that could not disguise the thickness to his arms and powerful back that was toned to perfection underneath. It never really fazed John though. He played football and ran track. He dated a few girls, and during those months I would bite my tongue and swallow the lump in my throat. I knew none of them would love John the way I did, but I was adamant that I would never reveal my feelings and risk ruining what we had. His girlfriends never lasted too long though — they could never understand the bond we had and got jealous of the time he spent with me. I still came first to John and if a girlfriend ever got to the point of making him choose, it was always me he chose — hands down, no questions asked. We still hung out almost everyday, but our evenings in high school consisted of more study dates and all-nighters to finish assignments, and not so many lazy days at the watering hole. Boys had started to take notice of me as well. I was 5’8″ and my curly light brown hair had grown long and took on a healthy golden shine from the hours I spent out in the sun working with John on the farm. I had a small waist that tapered to nicely rounded hips and a generous bottom. My top half was quite large — and it made me a bit self-conscious to have to buy 36DD bras. Boys tried to impress me all the time — unbeknowst to them that I only had eyes for one boy. Towards the end of senior year John had decided that he would join the military. My heart clenched when he told me the news while images of him out there in the middle of nowhere fighting made my stomach drop. He told me that everything would be fine but it did nothing to calm my nerves. I was accepted to a local University with a partial scholarship and my dad was thrilled. We celebrated the occasion with John and his mom the evening before John was to leave. This would be the first time I would go for longer than a week without seeing my John. It was a dangerous time to be in the Service There was much turmoil going on overseas and the thought that John may never come home destroyed me. After a long night of “celebrating”, I gladly welcomed going home so I could cut that fake smile off of my face and give in to the tears that I had long neglected. I sat on the porch swing in front of my house and slowly rocked myself. Daddy was tired and had decided to turn in early, leaving me alone with my thoughts. It wasn’t a very cool night but the quilted blanket spread over my lap made me feel a bit more at ease. I looked up at the stars and silently prayed that I would wake up and this would all be a dream. I wanted to wake up and have John beside me, safe and sound, with no more talk of this nonsense. The tears made their way down my face for I could not control them any longer. I don’t think I’ve ever cried so hard in my life. The tears quickly turned into sobbing as I laid my head in my hands. I was crying so hard that I didn’t even hear John’s pick-up truck pull into my gravel driveway. Before I knew it he was beside me, the smell of his soap and something else that was uniquely John invaded my senses. It was heavenly and I would never Kartal escort forget the smell of him that night. His warm heat pressed into my side as his strong arms pulled me into his lap to hold me like a child. I sobbed openly into his neck as he stoked my hair and told me that everything would be alright. He lifted my chin to look in my eyes and for the first time in the nine years I had known him, I saw his eyes fill with tears as he took in my sorry state. My eyes were red and puffy, my cheeks were tear-stained and hurt from all of my crying. My hair must have been a tangled mess, but John looked at me like I was the most beautiful star in the sky. It was at that moment I realized he wasn’t looking in my eyes, but at my mouth. A tingle of lust shot straight to my lower belly, knowing that he was looking at me like a man looks at a woman, and not his best friend. I felt so conflicted at that moment — my head was telling me to stop thinking stupidly while my heart wanted to grab him and hold him close to me forever and beg him not to leave. John was undoubtedly the other half of my heart, and I knew that when he left he would be taking a large part of it with him. He ran the back of hand down my cold wet cheek and lowered his perfect soft lips to mine. The sounds of the crickets and the squeaky porch swing must have been hard to hear over the pounding of my heart inside my chest. His mouth explored mine tentatively, almost as if he was worried I would pull away from him. I wrapped my arms around the strong line of his neck, pulling him to me and silently assuring him that there was nowhere else in this world I would rather be. We lay there together kissing and embracing and listening to our hearts as they beat rapidly in tune with one another like a perfect melody. I ached to explore him further but was so stunned by the recent turn of events that I seemed to be paralyzed in my spot. It was simply nice to be this close to John, knowing that on this last night here in Texas, it was here with me that he chose to be. I loved this quiet, perfect boy with all of my soul. He was all I needed. He held me there until dawn crept over the horizon, casting the sky in brilliant shades of pink and orange. With that dawn my soul had weakened. I knew he had to leave, and I was beside myself with that realization. He stroked my hair like I was a tiny china doll and could break at any moment. I looked up into the face I had memorized and adored and saw the love and hesitation that filled his eyes. He felt something too, but it was time for him to go. I slowly rose from his warm lap and he reached his hand out to mine — holding it to his chest like a silent promise. His eyes filled with tears once again as he kissed my fingers one by one. I would memorize this moment. I would capture it and keep in with me until the day God brought us back to each other. Maybe he would still want me when he came back. Maybe the thought of me would give him the motivation he needed to stay safe and return home. As if he read my thoughts, he finally spoke. “I will come home to you Natalie. I will fight my hardest until the day I can come home and make you mine. Until I can give you everything you deserve.” His words were soft and filled with emotion, and they made my heart swell and my tummy flutter. “I will write you every day and pray every night until you come home to me John. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” With that I pressed my lips to his in a silent promise that I would wait for him. I would wait forever.  We wrote to each other every day. He would tell me all about his training and missions (sparing me the gory details and specifics) while I told him about life in University and all the new and interesting people I was meeting. We tried to refrain from speaking about our feelings too often, knowing that the pain of not being together would only hurt us more if we focused on it all the time. I got all the assurance I ever needed from the last line of every letter he wrote me. My heart is always with you.  Love, John Sometimes weeks would go by while I Suadiye escort bayan waited for a letter. I tried not to let this scare me, because I knew the mail service wasn’t entirely reliable on his end, especially depending on where he was. It was those letters that got me through my darkest days. I dreamt of John all the time. I dreamt that he would come home from the war. He would sneak into my small apartment late at night and rid himself of his dusty fatigues and climb into my warm bed. He would pull me close to his strong body and explore me with his hands and mouth. On many occasions I would wake up out of a dead sleep, covered in sweat and goosebumps and completely aroused. The way my body reacted from a simple dream about him never failed to stun me. I became quite accustomed to pleasing myself — the thought of giving myself to another man was never an option. I would always wait for John. If he still wanted me when he got home, then he would be my first and only. After four years of university I had obtained my degree in History and was patiently awaiting graduation. I was planning on enrolling in teacher’s college for the following year and was excited to start this new chapter of my life. My thoughts strayed to John for the umpteenth time that day. I had not received a letter from him in almost four weeks. This was the longest I had gone without a letter and I found myself waiting on the front stoop of my small walk-up apartment every morning waiting patiently for the post man to come round, but every day that passed without a letter brought new fears. I worked as many shifts as possible at work. I volunteered extra days and busied myself preparing for the transition to teacher’s college I would be making soon — anything to occupy my mind, really. I had been running on autopilot for months now, waiting to hear from him. I felt sick to my stomach every time I turned on the television to watch the news, but at the same time could not turn a blind eye. Where was he? Was he safe? Did he think of me as often as I thought of him?  I lay in bed one lazy Thursday morning. Graduation was tomorrow, then I would head home to enjoy three whole months off until the fall semester started and I could get back into the routine of school once again. I was in the middle of a very pleasant and steamy dream about John — as usual, when I thought I heard what sounded like a light knocking on my front door. I paused and listened intently until I heard the knocking again. I figured it must have been my roommate Karen. She often stayed at her fiance’s apartment when she didn’t have morning classes the next day and she was guilty of forgetting her keys on more than one occasion. I smiled, shook my head and pulled myself out of my cozy bed, not bothering with my robe as I made my way down the hallway towards the door and the now persistent knocking. “Man, Karen, hold your horses, I’m coming,” I shouted as I made my way to the door. I pulled at the hem of my short silk nighty, making sure it was covering my butt. I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties and it was quite short. Oh well — if Dean was with Karen then I would just quickly duck into the bathroom after I opened the door. “You know, you really need to work on remembering to take your keys with you when you go to Dean’s place,” I admonished as I flung open the door without a second thought. “Well, easy for you to say, but I don’t have a key sweetheart.” My jaw must have dropped to the floor and I was at a complete loss for words as I took in the sight before me. Standing there leaning against my doorway was John. He still wore his uniform and had a large duffel bag tossed over one shoulder. He had changed. He was bigger than that last night we had spent together wrapped in each other’s arms on my front porch when we were 18. He looked a few inches taller and it looked like he had gained about 30 pounds of solid muscle. His hair was a bit lighter and cut much shorter then I remembered. I drank in the sight of him standing there looking me up and down for a few seconds until I finally let the air out of lungs. It felt like the first real breath I had taken in four years. I finally snapped out of it and he dropped his duffel bag the moment before I leapt into his arms, clinging to him as I wrapped my bare legs around his strong hips. I pushed my face into that perfect warm spot between his neck and collar bone and breathed him in.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32