FORTY ONE - RYDER

I did try. I don't know if it even made a difference, but if I ever had to explain this to Samantha, I could at least say I’d tried my best. Tried to make sense of it all, to explain things the way I thought I should. But nothing came of it. It didn’t matter what I did—no matter how much we wanted it, the genie refused to go back in the bottle. That night, I’d thrown a blanket over us, its soft folds barely covering her body as she slept against me. Her skin, warm and smooth, pressed up against mine. Her hair spilled over the arm I had draped around her. I could feel one of her arms curled around my chest, and her breathing was soft, delicate, brushing my collarbone like the lightest flutter of wings. One of her legs rested over mine, its golden hue a stark contrast to my paler skin. The sight of her—of us tangled together—was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I pulled the blanket up, trying to cover us both a little more, as if that could keep everything safe. She stirred first.