‘Have I done something wrong?’ her wavering voice asked. ‘No sweetheart, it’s not you….it’s me… I’m sorry…you are a lovely person, and I really like you…but….’ ‘But you don’t want to see me anymore…?’ Shuffling he feet, he told her the usual rubbish, trying to get it over and done with, without a scene, ‘Tracy…we could still be friends, I really like you as a friend, but I’m going over to England in August to live, and over the next couple of months I will be going back and forth over there, concentrating on setting everything up, so it would be unfair to you to carry this on……’ ‘I thought we had an understanding…. that you really cared for me….all those times at each others places…’ ‘I did care for you…I do care for you…but….’ ‘…not enough to carry on?’ ‘No…’ It was over. He was unattached again. Maybe that was the best thing for him, to be unattached and concentrate on planning his future. Bending down to kiss her cheek, he told her goodbye, before walking away, his stomach tight. He softly babbled words of endearment into her ear as she seemed to almost purr against him. Looking past her golden locks, he could see her baby blue tank top, its exact shade unclear in the dark room, barely covering the waistband of her jeans which, he remembered, were a faded blue. Her small and starkly white Reebok sneakers hung off the seat. He gently rubbed her belly under the shirt, and she sighed.What really startled George was not the love; he had gotten that. It was the trust. She trusted him to not push too far, something he heretofore had not been inclined to do with regards to girls in his younger teenaged years. He couldn’t possibly be exuding a sense of kindness or respect. They were not a major part of his makeup. She was right, he couldn’t hurt her, or force her. But he didn’t get how she could know that he felt that way specially towards her.The nature of everything had been a bit mentally exhausting. He couldn’t remember if anything was written on her t-shirt. He.
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