I watch you on your webcam sometimes. But you’d know that. You’re the person who installed the program to let me. You know a lot of things really – you know how much I care for you – love you even. You certainly should, after that night on the roof. Not that we touched. We never touched. Not in that way.

That’s one of my biggest regrets. That while you say you care for me, you’ll never let me even kiss you. And yet I turn down offers because I’m saving myself for you. Instead, I sit at my computer. Watching you. Watching him.

I’m not sure what’s worse – that the him varies from night to night or that I enjoy it.

It all comes back to me really. Falling in love with the one person I know who could never be faithful. Well, in a way you are. Faithful to your word. You told me that love is love and sex is sex, and that the two couldn’t mix without both losing something. Like chocolate and pizza you said.

So here I am, watching you. Watching him. Listening as you shout your pleasure to the stars as you writhe in your third tryst of the day.

And then it’s over. He lies back, chest heaving, beaded sweat slowly drying on his chest. You lie there for a minute, before moving to the camera.

“Goodnight babe,” you whisper, as you always do, before returning to the bed and placing a kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” I whisper back, the sound almost dying on my lips. Maybe one day you’ll say what I’ve longed to hear for so long. Until then… I’ll keep watching you.