I can almost feel your grip on my hand, tense, wanting (just the ways hers is when she looks at me and whispers how beautiful I am). My eyes stare into yours, ever and always the swirling colors of the ocean, deep, alive, yet somehow forbidding; and I smile back at you - knowing you’ll see that it doesn’t reach quite up to my eyes and knowing further that you’ll ask what’s wrong. You always notice the little things that I can’t hide, the things I can’t play off. And, flash - I see it hit you that I’m faking the smile for you, and (the words predictable, rising unbidden, slightly sarcastic in my mind, as you open your mouth to speak) your voice echoes in my ears. “Ash, is everything okay?”

I can’t hold your gaze any more; my amber eyes lower, dropping to the floor and glancing back up quickly, feeling my stomach turn as my glance flashes back to your eyes. I promised you honesty. My thoughts are storming, my senses in turmoil for a few seconds. I smell the salt of my nervous sweat; taste blood in my mouth as my canine sinks into the lip below it; my eyes painfully hold yours; my ears listening simultaneously to your breathing and the trickling of rain down the window; feel the chill as the fan blows down the back of my neck, and I shiver unconsciously.

I hear my “No,” whispered over a bleeding lip as I let the pain grow, happily deadening the throbbing ache in my heart. I see her face in my mind (she is beautiful, dark hazel eyes gleaming), feel her lips on mine (passionate, needing), hear her voice (low moans and breathless whispers), taste her blood, not mine, on my tongue (licking the salty-sweet coppered crimson from her neck), and smell her musky scent on my sheets (I still haven’t washed them). My brain registers all these in a split second, the same second realizing that with her, I was happy.

“No,” I say again, this time louder.

You look at me and I can see the worry in your eyes. I know that you love me, I know the pain that what I’ve done, what I’ve continued to do, after making empty promises of loyalty, will cause you. I remember a promise of honesty. I shake my head a little, and the lie crosses my lips, my head justifying it briefly. I want you to be happy.

“Just a headache.” I smile again, this time bringing it to my eyes as I think of her, letting you know everything’s all right, staring into the camera and not your eyes, proving my smile. You’re so far away. I speak in a lighter tone, images of her still floating in my mind. The audio has been choppy tonight but I am sure you'll be able to hear it.

“That’s all. How’s your day been?”