[This one's short]
"Are you sick of me?" I asked.
"Would you like to be?" I continued.
"These were two words I used to make her fall in love with me. Or so I thought." I told my friend Michael.
"She liked the pretty boys, with a pretty voice, something I did not quite have. But we were too drunk to drive, and the music was right, and she told me I could stay, but just for the night. And so we ducked under her sheets and kissed."
"Be careful of a girl like her, Michael." I said.
"Because if she grabs you by the hand, you might be kissing before the end of her stupid song."
"Why was it stupid?" He asked me back.
"Oh, Michael. We listened to Lovers Rock the whole night, putting the record back on and on. It was her favorite song. A song that I later learned to hate."
"What did you do after kissing?" he asked me excitedly.
"Patience, boy."
"I backed away, asking her:
'How many boys have you kissed?'
'Very few' she answered me.
'But you offered me a kiss, why?'
'Such a stupid question, I just wanted to kiss you'"
Michael laughed, finding my relationship with that girl quite adorable. I couldn't really see the charm of it anymore, for me, she was just a bitter-sweet memory of my horny teenage years.
"Oh, but love can burn like a cigarette, because the next morning I woke up alone in her bed, listening to the song Lovers Rock over and over again, waiting for her to come back."
"Where did she go?" He asked.
"I have no idea, she ran away. Because in the end I was still not one of the pretty boys she appreciated, and my voice wasn't as soothing as she would like it to be." I looked away.