The guilt hit me hard as I watched the Windsor skyline come into view. The past couple of days had been... too perfect, and now reality was skinking in. I had sex with my dead boyfriend's best friend. I am an awful person. I let my head sink into my hands as I let out a sigh. Taylor turned his head and looked at me quizically.
"You alright, Jasey?" he asked, grabbing for my hand, which I pulled away quickly.
"Fine." I said bluntly, as we pulled into my driveway.
"Want me to come in for a bit?" Taylor said, giving me a quick smile.
"Actually, I'm pretty tired," I said as I felt the guilt hit me harder than a 300 ton truck, "I'm just going to head to bed. I'll give you a call sometime this week."
"Um." Taylor said, rubbing his neck letting out a strained look, "Okay then. Good night."
I half smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping out of the car and sprinting to the door. I unlocked the front door, hands shaking, I swung it closed behind me and crashed down to the ground. I was trembling viciously as I crawled over to the liquor cabinet to pull out a bottle of whiskey that hadn't been touched in weeks.
I sat cross-legged on my living room floor, and placed the taunting bottle in front of me. I narrowed my eyes at the bottle as I took out a pen and paper and began to write.
I thought I was saved. Really. I thought that everything had settled, I had finally managed to move on. Not the case. Everytime I come back home, all I think about is you. Emotions swarm me, and it makes me sick. I feel sick with myself. I did something awful, I think. Taylor's your best friend. He's my best friend. He's only ever been a friend to me... until recently. I hate this guilt. I know I can't ever be with Taylor without feeling like I'm somehow dissing your memory. I feel like I shouldn't be moving on. I don't want to leave you behind. I love you way too much for that. I had sex with him. Can I be any worse? I'm so sorry. I just felt like for once... maybe I could be happy. And I guess I was happy. For a few days, I was happy. But then, I got back here, and all I feel is guilt. You're dead, and I'm happy? No. That's not right.
I love you.
I folded the letter into three parts, walked over to my bedroom and slid the letter in my desk with the other one. As soon as I collapsed on my bed, I heard a knock on the front door. I stared at the door miserably, daring it to open itself. It didn't. I groaned and went over to the door, swung it open to see Taylor leaning against the door frame, a concerned expression on his face.
"Taylor..." I started, but I couldn't finish as he pressed his lips down onto mine in a heart-stopping kiss. I felt myself cave as I crumbled into his arms and wrapped my arms around his neck. Mickey Mickey Mickey Mickey. I found the will power to pull away, and I looked down at my feet.
"You're gonna tell me what's going on." Taylor said, walking into my place, picking up the bottle of whiskey in the middle of my living room, staring at it questioningly, before shrugging and taking a huge swig and passing it to me.
It was going to be a long night.