Truth Is by Amicia Bianchi (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📕

He just stood there looking at me with a look in his eyes that made me start walking over to him without thinking first. I should have known better, just like the first time, because I know in these times that he's drunk.

He never moved he just stood still with his hands in his pockets, holding himself back, that last bit of reluctant hesitance, but still giving me that look. Though I had moved without thinking when I began thinking I stopped, not too close but still within arm's reach.

"Come on, don't be like that come over here."

He reached out before I could do anything and grabbed my waist pulled me towards him. Should I have even had a doubt if he was drunk or not I had my answer. I could smell the alcohol on his breath but his distinct masculine scent was just underneath.

When he was drunk it was as if he were still himself but also a different person, if you didn't know him you would never think that he was drunk. Sober he'd never talk to me if we didn't have some of the same frieds but every time he was drunk that's when he'd hunt me down and hit on me.

"I'm not going to sleep with you like I know you want." That's when he started moving his hands and rubbing me. He caressed me and my little resistant strength ebbed away and he knew it.

"It's been too long since I went to sleep with you next to me in my arms… too long," he whispered in my ear.

This was all so flattering and I almost purred in respond, crumbling in his arms, because truly I always loved to hear how he felt. I couldn't help be disappointed, though. The only time I could ever hear him admit to it is when he's drunk.

My heart ached now to hear this same statement from the same man when he was sober but I knew that would never happen. I was so upset by this that I would walk away from him now and go but my legs wouldn't move.

You can call me stupid because that's exactly what I'm doing to myself right now.

Why are you swooning over a drunk guy?

My legs were shaking and I would have fallen at his feet but surprisingly he was the one supporting me with a firm grip. You would think it would be the drunk person that would have problems standing not the other way around but we've always been odd so I guess that this applies too.

In the process of this he had pulled me closer to him and I knew once I was closer to him he'd try to kiss me and it'd be over. There'd be no fighting him off. He was a male and he had more strength than me so my fighting attempts wouldn't work. Maybe I could keep him at bay and get him to realize that the best course of action would not be to sleep with me.

I knew I couldn't trust his bed he might take me there but in the morning he would be sober and rude. With the aid of a hangover to piss him off further he would probably have security drag my naked body out of his house.

I pushed on his chest at least my hands were strong. Before I could begin my small rebellion he cut in.

"It's been a bit too long since I went to sleep with the comfort of your warmth," he cupped my face and stroked my cheek softly.

This is where I got stupid I had the facts I knew he was drunk and he would rather die a thousand deaths than ever utter those same words had he been sober. I knew how to evade him I knew that giving in would only make my life more complicated than it already is or needs to be. My heart and mind were at war one begging for me to just give in this one time to see what happens the other emphasizing all the reasons I knew it was wrong.

I moved too slow to refuse and I didn’t notice that my internal battle was only distracting me because he made the decision by pulling my body against his, kissing me slowly and passionately. That kiss was so hot it had me struggling to catch my breath even thinking about it later.

In the end I wound up laying here in his arms, not for the first time, he was still awake and fiddling with my hair absent mindedly while we stared up at the ceiling talking and laughing about everything we could think of.

If there was ever one single reason why I couldn't ever seem to let him go would be because our connection wasn't just a physical attraction thing. I felt it everytime I was near him, drunk or sober, but he had never said a word about it to me until that first time, a couple years ago, when he'd had a few too many drinks. He'd told me how he felt, even confronted me about feelings I'd suppressed, next thing I knew one thing led to another, and we'd slept together. The next morning I'd felt somewhat guilty, for cheating, and left before he woke up. However, the events of that night were a big part of the reason why me and my ex-fiance broke up.

Eventually he went to sleep and I snuck out of bed, got dressed, then stopped to kiss him on the forehead whispering goodbye to his drunken side. I went to get water and an aspirin from the kitchen and bathroom cabinet placing them on the table. I didn’t leave a note because then he would get curious and sooner or later he’d find out it was me.

Then what would he do, kill me? Okay breath, stop hyperventilating, your mind’s going into hyper drive. He wouldn’t kill you… well maybe hypothetically, not literally…

I got my purse and left scared half to death the whole time that he would wake up and catch me. When I kissed his forehead I kept imagining him reaching out and grabbing my arm as I was trying to walk away. Luckily I got away without a hitch…

 For every time I slip up, like yesterday, I always end up avoiding him for a few days because I feel so vulnerable around him to the point that it’s not possible for me to act normal around him. Anytime that I’m near him I can’t stop thinking about what we did then I tend to get nervous and start acting weird. So I’d decided to lay low for awhile but when I looked at my calendar I realized that there was an engagement party for my two best friends today.

I’d felt torn about it all day because I felt like I had to go but what kept me frustrated was that I knew he would be there. So now here I was at my house, close to the time it would be starting, still debating on whether to go or not to go. I hated when things like this happen because reality never missing an opportunity to beat me up.

On the one hand I know I brought this on myself for giving in to him and I would feel guilty if I didn’t go support my friends but on the other hand if I went there would be no way to avoid running into him. Once I was near him I knew it would be awkward, I’d make a fool of myself, and then the whole night would be ruined for me.

It seemed that the decision was not up to me, though. Eventually I mustered up the courage to text Shelby to tell her I was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it. I thought that would be it but they clearly weren’t buying it and decided to call me.

“You better come, you’re not getting out of this one,” Tess yelled into the phone the moment I picked up.

“I would love to but I-” I was planning on trying to talk my way out of it but Shelby jumped in just then.

“That’s it,” she then said something I couldn’t quite make out but I’m sure it wasn’t directed at me anyway. “We’re coming to get you,” she stated with finality before they hung up.

At that point I could do nothing but sigh and go to my closet for something to wear. I put my cell phone down on the counter and went to my bedroom then searched my closet for an outfit to wear to the party. Not long after I was already dressed and ready, they were knocking on my door. When I tried to step outside they pushed me back in and began raiding my closet, forcing me to change clothes since they thought I was too inconspicuously dressed. I complied with their demands resisting the urge to just tell them everything, mostly due to the fact that I know they’d still make me go. Once they were finally satisfied I locked my apartment and we were off, pulling into a parking spot in record time.

Their fiancees were waiting for them inside and I greeted them each with Scott, Tess’ fiancee pulling me into a hug.

“I can’t believe you’re actually getting married,” I told him. He was like an older brother to me and had grown up in my neighborhood.

“I can’t either,” he started laughing until he got elbowed.

“But hey where’s Annie?” Shelby’s fiancee, Mark, asked.

“In Jamaica, ‘working’,” I told them.

My sister, Annie, is a journalist who currently works for a magazine. Annie is most well known for her work as a professional critic and had continued until she got her recent job. She had initially gotten the opportunity through one of our relatives but she’d gotten notoriety and had enjoyed it so much that she hasn’t ever completely given it up. She now has a popular blog where she does critiques for hotels, resorts, and the like so she tends to get quite a lot of free invites for her to visit and hopefully give them a good review.

Somehow her current job is pretty flexible with allowing her ‘work vacations’ and usually when these come up we all end up looking at our schedules. She doesn’t always go by herself because she tends to say that sometimes an experience can be different if you’re not going by yourself. Although in the past she has taken just me along with her and she told me that if I wanted I could go but I didn’t. I wish I had gone with her this time.

“She should’ve taken us with her,” Tess said as if reading my thoughts and I gave her a look that made her and Shelby start giggling.

If I’d been with her on vacation last night wouldn’t have happened and I wouldn’t have to feel so self conscious. I slid my hair behind my ear and discreetly surveyed the