It's 3 am, and there hasn't been a single thought tonight that didn't include Chloe. It took every muscle I've got in my body not to beg her to stay. Of course I didn't always feel so emotionally dependent on Chloe. We've always been best friends, sure, but everything became confusing last New Year's Eve. 11:57 pm, standing there looking for a girl to give my kiss to at midnight. I lost hope searching through the crowded basement of the quarterback Lance's house. Everyone looked like stars that night.
I tried my best to look presentable, wearing tight jeans that squeezed my ass, a maroon button-up shirt, and my usual Converse. My thick, dark brown hair was a bitch to tame. I somehow managed to make it stay, swooping to the side after an abundance of curses in the mirror.
Every girl seemed to have a date, or was readying for their kiss. Nervously, I took a drink of my punch to keep from looking like some kind of perv, gawking at only the girls in the room.
Chloe stepped in from the cold where the other party goers had gone to smoke cigarettes and gossip. She had really outdone herself that night. She wore her hair down, so long and blonde it brushed her waist as she scanned the room searching for me. I'm certain I glanced at every inch of her that New Year. I saw her face before anything, cat eye makeup, snow nipped cheeks made them tint pink. Her arctic blue eyes with mile high lashes. Then my eyes went south... Slowly. Her neck was decorated by a long necklace in the shape of a teardrop. It fell over the top of her long sleeve gold dress that hugged every spot of her body that I suddenly wanted to touch and brushed just above her knees.
I studied her; she reached for the bracelet that I gave her. I realized she was getting anxious. Perhaps she thought I had left.

Something took over me like a lion going in for the prey. I felt a force pulling me to her as I began walking towards her. I squeezed through the crowd, the sound of, "5. 4. 3...." roars from the party. At "2!" I made it to her. Her face told me I'd saved her from panic, "M'Lady?" I smiled. She snorted out a laugh.

"ONE HAPPY New YEAR!", I took her cheek into my hand softly and kissed the tip of her lips as gentle as a feather caught in the wind.

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I stare at the ceiling above my bed, checking the clock every few minutes. Two hours later, and I force myself out of my room and into the garage. In times like this, times of pain, I lift.
I place myself onto the weight bench. I've channeled my hurting into adrenaline. Taking the bar into my hands, I lower its challenging weight. With each thrust of my arms, I exhale. In with the good, out with the bad.
The shaking of my arms, the shortness of my breath. Slowly, the emotional pain gets replaced with physical pain.
Productive pain.
I shower after a few reps, give in to temptation, and text Chloe.
"Don't forget me." Sent.