Monday, January 19, 2009

Sept: I've only ever loved cats and the wrong men.

Prompt: I've only ever loved cats and the wrong men.
From: NaNoWriMo's Adopt an Opening Line Thread
Word Count: 428
Notes: I love this one.

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I've only ever loved cats and the wrong men. Which was why I didn't quite trust Tristan and his kind advances. I felt the stirrings of love begin when he first knocked on my door, his car had broken and couldn't he please use the phone? His shirt stuck to him like a second skin, and his wet jeans hung off of him, and I caught myself thinking, what if they were to fall?

I let him in, and gave him a towel. I knew that he was a stranger, and that no sane person lets a stranger into their home. I have only ever loved the wrong men, and I have never been able to say no to one the moment my heart begins to stir. I remember he smiled brightly. His teeth were almost perfect except for a few crooked interlopers. As I lead him into the kitchen he told me that he had been driving to his new home and was lost. I asked where, thinking I could give him directions. He told me. It was the house next door.

Tristan was a good neighbor. Perhaps too good, since the stirrings that I felt whenever I saw him seemed to increase. He took my breath away, and brought color to my cheeks. He liked to do things for me. To fix my creaky doors, to leave bouquets of flowers on my porch, to help me paint my kitchen. I could barely stand it when he brought catnip plants for my little darlings. We planted them in my little garden together, while Moshi, Heidi, and Tilda watched. There sweet eyes wide with happiness.

When the exes stopped by, knocking angrily on my door, yelling words no one ever wants to hear, Tristan was there. He held me in his arms while I cried, while my special three rubbed against our legs. Sometimes, when the wrong men I had loved where very persistent he made them go away. Small tears fell from my eyes as I tenderly bandaged his scrapes from the scuffles and held ice against bruises. He would lightly touch the side of my face, telling me that he was fine, I didn't need to cry, everything would be alright.

It was raining outside when our lips finally touched. I was hesitant and scared, all the men I had loved had been wrong. Tristan was slow and gentle, his hands running through my hair and caressing my face. Our lips met, and I knew that if Tristan was wrong, I didn't want to be right.

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