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Lying there in that bed next to Josh, Brooke tried to convince herself that maybe it was like that for everyone, first times are so overrated.
And besides, there was a lot of pressure on them.
The cheerleader and the quarterback.
The prom king and queen.
The perfect couple.
No fireworks or romantic music playing in the background, it didn't bother her too much, but not feeling anything in general bothered her. The sex had been good, the physical part at least, but there was still no emotion, no connection, he was a good guy, a great one in fact, handsome, kind and he really loved her.
And still nothing.
Then she thought about Sam, that didn't surprise her at all, recently, in any gap, Sam McPherson's judgmental voice would enter her mind.
Even when there was no time, during meals, going to school, kissing Josh, even in her dreams the image of this irritating expression of superiority constantly plastered on Sam’s face haunted her.
And there was her mouth, her lips. Even though words constantly came from them that irritated her, Brooke couldn't deny, at least not to herself, that Sam’s lips were wonderful. She could never stop staring at them every time they talked or fought (the latter being much more frequent). She also could barely stop thinking about them and the girl they belonged to, especially there.
She thought about how annoying, crazy, horrible and sometimes surprisingly fantastic things with Sam could be.
It wasn't always good, but it was always something, Sam messed with her. Around Sam there was always some strong emotion, some connection, some strange mutual understanding at the end of the day. She could feel everything for Sam.
If it were Sam there in that bed she would feel something. And now she knew.
She didn't cry, contrary to how she thought it would be when she reached that conclusion, she just turned over and fell asleep feeling melancholy infesting the room.
She knew that in the morning she would break up with Josh, and that when she slept once again she would dream of Sam McPherson's lips.