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When She Loved Me

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When somebody loved me
Everything was beautiful
Every hour we spent together
Lives within my heart


Sophomore year of college, I took a psych course. I somehow completed most of the required courses for the year, so I had the chance to take a few more electives than normal, and I chose psychology. I don’t really know why I picked it, there were tons of other available options, but I guess part of me had hoped that I’d learn something that would help me make sense of the events of the last three years of my life. 

We were studying loss and regret and the effects they can have on a person’s psyche. We were assigned a paper asking us to identify the one thing we regret most in our lives and discuss how it has affected us. Most people seemed to have somewhat of a difficult time deciding on what event to write about, but not me. I knew exactly what I was going to write about. It was an easy decision really; I had been thinking about it since I started the class. Everything we studied reminded me of it. It had happened over a year ago, but it was fresh in my mind and in my heart as though it had been only a few days. My greatest regret was my greatest heartbreak: losing the love of my life.

People find it hard to believe that we could have been so serious about each other and so deeply and passionately in love when we were so young, but what we had was more real than many of the “adult” relationships we grew up around. She was my world; my best friend, my lover, my soulmate, my everything. And I lost her.


And when she was sad
I was there to dry her tears
And when she was happy so was I
When she loved me


We’d been through so much together, both good and bad. I held her as she broke down and cried when her dad died, and I was there by her side celebrating with her when she was offered the chance to record an album, first together with Kyla singing their dad’s hits, then a few months later when she did her own solo album, filled with her own songs. We leaned on each other for support, and we shared each other’s joy. Neither of us would have had the strength to endure the hardships we were faced with alone, and even our happiest moments wouldn’t have been as perfect if we hadn’t experienced them together.


Through the summer and the fall
We had each other that was all
Just she and I together
Like it was meant to be
And when she was lonely
I was there to comfort her
And I knew that she loved me  


For two years we spent almost every waking moment together, and on the rare occasions that we were forced to be apart, we kept in close contact by spending hours on the phone. I spent more time at her house than I did at my own; her mom was rarely around, and Kyla respected our privacy by going out often, or, if she was home, staying in her room. The three of us did hang out sometimes, along with Madison, but she understood that we usually just wanted to be with each other and left us alone. We were inseparable, and we liked it that way. We were young, happy and in love, and nothing could stop us from being together.


So the years went by
I stayed the same
But she began to drift away
I was left alone
Still I waited for the day
When she’d say I will always love you


I never loved anyone the way I loved her. She was everything to me, and I truly thought we would be together forever. She seemed to feel the same way, at least until her music career started taking off, right after our high school graduation. I was so proud of her for achieving her dream, and she was happier than I’d seen her in a long time, almost since before her father died. We managed to make it work for a while, all through the recording and release of her album and the subsequent frenzy the country went into over her. We even survived her first national tour. It was the second tour that our problems began. 

She would be gone for weeks at a time, and I couldn’t go with her like I had the first time because I was starting college. At first, she would come back every chance she got, and we would talk constantly, running up our phone bills filling in the details of our everyday lives so neither of us felt like we were missing out. But as time passed, her visits came more sporadically, and our phone conversations became shorter and less frequent. She often sounded distracted, and many times I overheard her flirting with various members of her band and her numerous groupies. I tried to convince myself that it would all be okay again when she got home from the tour, but the date of her return kept getting pushed off more and more, and then came the world tour. 

It was exactly like the national tour, only ten times worse. Not only was she gone for even longer periods of time, but with the time difference, her hectic schedule and my own work, we were reduced to talking only a couple times a month, and only for a few minutes each time. I missed her terribly, but I knew how happy she was being on tour and singing her songs, and I wasn’t going to stand in her way. As in love with her as I was, I finally had to accept that she was gone. 

The next time we spoke, I told her to stop calling so I could attempt to get over and move on with my life. It killed me to break up with her, but it hurt too much to be alone and waiting for her, and I couldn’t do it anymore. She told me she was sorry that it had come to this and that she never meant to hurt me, but that she understood, and she would respect my wishes. 

I didn’t go out much after that, although Aiden and Madison tried their hardest to get me out of my room and go clubbing with them. Chelsea was off at art school in Europe, and while we did keep in touch, she had her own life there, and didn’t come home often. Kyla had gone off to New York for college, and usually came to visit a few times a year, but she spent most of her time in the city.

I tried dating other girls, but I kept catching myself comparing them to her and they never matched up, so I gave up. A few of the girls were actually really cool and under different circumstances something might have developed between us, but my heart belonged to someone else, no matter how hard I tried to forget her. I still felt a surge of pride whenever she was on TV or a magazine cover, or when I overheard random people talking about how hot and talented she was. She was still the first person I wanted to call when something good happened, and the first person I wanted to turn to for comfort when I was having a rough time. I did my best to move one, but a part of me still longed to be with her, for everything to be like it was in high school.


Lonely and forgotten
Never thought she’d look my way
She smiled at me and held me
Just like she used to do
Like she loved me
When she loved me  


I tivo’d every single interview she did and award show appearance she made, and kept every magazine that mentioned her for an entire year. I missed her every minute of every day, even though it was clear that she had moved on. There were constant rumors about her and this actress, or her and that singer, and she always has some gorgeous girl on her arm on the red carpet. As much as I wished that she would come back to me and that we could be together again, I knew it was a hopeless dream. She was living her dream, and didn’t have to deal with school, or parents, or commitment; why would she ever come back? 

About two weeks after writing that paper, I was sitting in the living room of the off-campus apartment I shared with Madison and Aiden, watching her interview with Ellen from the day before that I had taped. Aiden had a date, and Madison was off at some party her sorority was hosting. She’d decided at the beginning of the year that she would much rather live with me and Aiden than try to survive 120 other girls all living together and PMSing at the same time. Dealing with all that petty bullshit girls put each other through was not something worthy of her time and energy, she’d said. She had really grown up since high school. 

I was brooding on the couch in my pajamas, eating the remaining pint of Ben and Jerry’s left over from last weekend when Madison and I had a girl’s night in, complete with ice cream, nail polish and chick flicks, when I heard a soft knock at the door. I thought I had imagined it, so I ignored it, but then I heard it again a few seconds later. I paused the TV and got up to answer it, clueless as to who was on the other side. 

As I opened the door and saw who was standing there, my breath caught in my throat, rendering me speechless. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; standing in front of me was none other than the one person I loved more than anything in the world: Ashley Davies. 

I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe; all I could do was stand there frozen with my jaw dropped. She looked tired, and the chocolate-colored eyes that I loved to stare into for hours on end were rimmed with red, as though she had been crying. She gave me a weak smile and asked if she could come in. I was still in shock, but I stepped away from the door to let her pass. She didn’t sit down, just stood facing the couch with her back to me. I was about to ask what she was doing in my living room when we hadn’t spoken in over a year when she turned towards me and started speaking. 

“You’re probably wondering what the hell I’m doing here, when we’ve been broken up for a year and it was my fault in the first place. It’s a long story, but you deserve to know the truth, especially after the way I treated you. 

“When I left for the second tour, I never intended to end our relationship. I was weak, and I got caught up in the glamorous rockstar life I thought I wanted. I would go out partying and get drunk or high and wake up next to someone I barely knew, then leave before they woke up to avoid dealing with the inevitably awkward situation. The night you broke up with me, I went out with my band, got completely shit-faced, and hooked up with about six different people, trying to find that something I was missing, although at the time I hadn’t yet figured out what it was exactly. 

“I tried to forget about you by fooling around with other girls, but they never matched up. No one understood me in the way that you did, no one cared about me or took care of me like you did. In the end, they all just wanted to be able to say they fucked Ashley Davies. They were all fake, and none of them meant anything to me. 

“I started seeing you everywhere I went, picturing your face every time I closed my eyes, hearing your voice every time I tried to write a song. I finally realized that it was you that was missing from my life, but I knew I’d screwed up and hurt you and I didn’t know if you would want to see me or even hear from me. Hell, for all I knew, you had moved on and were happily in love with someone new. I threw myself into my music to avoid dealing with the pain of losing you. It was working too, until yesterday when I went on Ellen. You couldn’t tell how messed up I was from the televised interview, but I spent three hours with her after the show, crying and finally talking about everything I’d been bottling up inside for the past year and a half. She was amazing; she managed to calm me down, and told me that if I was serious about wanting to fix things between us, then I would have to come talk to you, in person, and show you just how pathetic and fucked up I really am. She said I’d have to beg for forgiveness, and just hope that some part of you still cares enough about me to give me a second chance, even though I don’t deserve it. 

“So here I am, begging you to take me back. I’m a wreck without you, and I’ve regretted how I acted every single day. I miss you more than you can imagine. I love you Spencer Carlin, and I will never love anyone the way I love you. If you let me, I swear I will do everything in my power to protect you and make you happy, and I will never do anything to hurt you ever again, because you are the most important thing in the world to me. Please, I’m begging you. I love you, I miss you, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so, incredibly sorry.” 

Our eyes met, and she held my gaze for a moment, searching for a clue as to what I was thinking. I was still so stunned that she was even there, standing in front of me after so long, saying everything I’d been longing to hear that I just stood there, dumbfounded and mute. When I didn’t respond, she turned away, the tears glistening in her eyes threatening to spill, and started moving towards the door. 

It took me until her hand was on the doorknob to snap out of my trance. I had been pining for this girl for a year and a half, and here I was, about to blow my shot at another chance with her. I reached out and grasped her hand just as she was opening the door to leave, a familiar rush flowing through my body at the contact. She looked down as our clasped hands, then up at me, her eyes full of questions and hope. I stared back at her, and hidden behind all the masks and lies and pain and confusion, I saw fear and love, and in that moment I knew every word she said was true. 

I stepped forward and pressed my lips against hers for the first time in eighteen months. It took her a moment to register what was happening, but then she returned the kiss with all the passion and desperation I was feeling. My mouth moved over hers, tasting the cherry lip gloss she had borrowed after a particularly memorable day we had spent ditching school to go to the beach. As I felt her tongue pressed gently against my lips asking for permission to enter, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my body and settle between my legs. Air was beginning to become an issue, but I didn’t care; I never wanted to stop kissing her. 

I was so wrapped up in her I didn’t realize that we had moved until I felt the couch hit my legs and we fell back onto it, our mouths never breaking contact. Her thigh found its way between mine and she pressed down, sending waves of pleasure through me. I moaned into the kiss, and felt her press herself against my own thigh, trying to alleviate some of the pressure. I could feel the heat emanating from her center, and knew that she could feel the same coming from me. I felt her hand slide under my shirt and across my stomach, pushing my shirt up in the process. Her touch was light, almost teasing, and it left a trail of goose bumps on my skin. 

Our kiss finally broke when I arched into her, unable to restrain myself any longer, desperate for more contact. She bent her head and moved to my neck, sucking and biting and branding me with a small cluster of purple bruises, and brought her hand up to cup my breast. I raked my fingers through her dark tresses and pulled her head up so I could reclaim her sweet addictive mouth. Her hand worked its way down my body slowly and tantalizingly, inching closer to the place I so desperately needed her to touch me. 

She stopped suddenly and pulled away, her hand hovering millimeters over the source of my heat. I opened my eyes to see her grinning wickedly down at me, as she fingered the waistband of my pants. Rather than cave and let her win, I decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, to subject her to her own delicious torture. I slid my hands down her thighs, squeezed her ass and thrust my knee against her, causing her eyes to flutter closed as she groaned at the sensation. She rocked against me a few times before opening her eyes and staring into mine, her eyes dark with arousal and a look of lust etched across her face. She pulled me roughly towards her and kissed me hard, pouring every ounce of passion and desire she was feeling into it, and I returned the kiss with equal fervor. 

Without thinking, our hands moved down and we slid into each other simultaneously, quickly establishing a rhythm. We moved together, our fingers working expertly, touching all the right places and knowing exactly what to do to get the other off. Our mouths continued dueling, tongues fighting for dominance, kissing and sucking and biting as the fires within us grew and we got closer and closer to the edge. I could feel myself beginning to lose control as I lost myself in her and the sensations she was igniting in me, so I thrust harder and faster into her, trying to spark in her the same things I was feeling. 

After what seemed like an eternity, I felt her walls clench tightly around my fingers. I didn’t let up, and she cried out in pleasure as her orgasm hit, hard. The image of her perfect tanned and toned body glistening with sweat and shaking as she rode it out was enough to trigger my own release, and I came hard, moaning her name. 

We laid together on the couch for some time afterwards, not speaking, just enjoying the feeling of our spent bodies pressed together and listening as out breathing fell into matching patterns. After a few minutes I looked up at her and saw her looking back at me, her eyes showing nothing but pure love and satisfied bliss. I leaned in and kissed her, softly and lovingly. 

“Thank you. For coming back.” 

She smiled and shrugged. “You’re worth it.” 

I smiled back and kissed her again. “I love you, Ashley Davies. I always have, and I always will.” 

She pressed her forehead against mine and rubbed our noses together. “I love you too, Spence. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m never letting you go.” 

We kissed again, then cuddled together and drifted off to sleep, utterly content.


When somebody loved me
Everything was beautiful
Every hour we spent together
Lives within my heart
When she loved me